IC-NRLF 


LUCKY 


A  Tale  of  the  Western  Prairie 


BY 

EVA  BELL  BOTSFORD 
fJ 


"Words  are  tiny  drops  of  ink."— ANON. 


BUFFALO 

THE  PETER  PAUL  BOOK  COMPANY 
1895 


Copyright,  1895, 
By  EVA  BELL  BOTSFORD. 


PRINTED  AND   BOUND   BY 

THE   PETER   PAUL  BOOK   COMPANY, 

BUFFALO,   N.  Y. 


TO 

SCHOOLMATES  AND  TEACHERS  OF  THE 

DETROIT   TRAINING    SCHOOL, 

THIS  BO  OK  IS  INSCRIBED 

WITH  REGARD  AND 

AFFECTION. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE. 

CHAPTER  I. 
A  LILY  AMONG  WEEDS 9 

CHAPTER  II. 
A  DREAMING  GIRL  AND  A  PRAIRIE  KNIGHT    ....      18 

CHAPTER  III. 
FOLK  LORE  AND  THE  NEW  NEIGHBORS 28 

CHAPTER  IV. 
BUB  AND  ROSE .      39 

CHAPTER  V. 
AFTER  FOUR  YEARS 51 

CHAPTER  VI. 
IN  THE  CITY 64 

CHAPTER  VII. 
A  PROPOSAL 75 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  PALLADIAN  ACADEMY  AND  NEW  LESSONS  OF  LIFE    86 

CHAPTER  IX. 
THALIA 97 

CHAPTER  X. 
AT  THE   ROYSTER   FARM  —  LUND  COMES  INTO   HlS 

INHERITANCE 115 

CHAPTER  XL 
MRS.  STAR-HARTMAN 127 

CHAPTER  XII. 
THALIA'S  OLD  STUDIO 137 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
THE  CAMP  MEETING  AND  WHAT  AN  OLD  BOOK  TOLD  148 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
ALL  THINGS  COME  ROUND  TO  HIM  WHO  WILL  BUT 

WAIT 157 


LUCKY— A  TALE  OF  THE  WESTERN 
PRAIRIE. 


CHAPTER  I. 
A  LILY  AMDNG  WEEDS. 


THE  great,  pompousj^Waced  sun  came  up  from 
behind  the  little  green  hills,  and  the  cackle  of 
ducks  from  the  region  of  the  rush-grown  ravine 
greeted  his  advent.  The  farm  hands  were  bringing 
out  their  breaking  ploughs  from  the  machine  shed, 
whistling  stray  snatches  of  dance  music  and  love 
songs.  Two  buxom  girls  in  pink  calico  sun-bonnets 
stood  beside  some  pails  of  foaming  milk,  guarding  it 
from  the  ravages  of  pigs  and  chickens  until  the  arrival 
of  the  man  whose  mission  was  to  convey  it  to  the  vats 
in  the  dairy  house.  The  cattle  were  leisurely  making 
their  way  through  the  wide  open  gate  of  the  spacious 
pine-board  corral,  quite  indifferent  to  the  "  Whoop 
halloo!  G'lang  there!  "  of  the  herd  boy,  which  rang 
out  sonorously  upon  the  air,  accompanied  by  the 
cracking  of  an  immense  whip  wielded  with  more 
ostentation  than  purpose.  They  knew  the  whip  and 
its  owner,  and  were  not  afraid  of  its  sting. 

Ninety  sleek  milch  cows  were  there  in  the  herd,  of 
various  sizes  and  colors.  There  was  a  mild-eyed  dun 
beauty  with  white  spots  on  her  flanks,  a  noble  roan 
with  a  line  along  her  back,  and  a  coquettish  little 
speckled  heifer  with  spiked  horns;  but  the  queen  of  the 
herd  was  a  superb  black  creature  with  a  star  on  her 


io  'LU.CKY. 

brow  who  carried  her*  head  with  a  proud  air  as  if  con- 
scious of  superior  distinction.  Slowly  they  lagged, 
nipping  at  the  tender  grass  as  they  went,  while  the  herd 
boy  rode  to  and  fro  on  his  ginger-colored  pony,  vainly 
shouting  and  flourishing  his  formidable  whip. 

This  was  the  dairy  farm  of  the  Roysters.  To  the 
right  of  the  corral  was  the  spring,  noted  far  and  wide 
for  its  water  of  icy  coldness,  walled  up  with  limestone 
and  shaded  by  overhanging  willows.  It  was  the  pride 
of  the  farm.  To  the  south,  were  the  barns  and  sheds, 
while  to  the  west  stood  the  dairy  house,  or  cheese 
house,  as  it  was  more  commonly  called,  an  immense 
frame  structure  painted  pale  yellow  like  the  cheeses  it 
contained;  to  the  right  of  that,  was  a  quaint  L  shaped 
building  known  as  the  <(  House."  In  this  latter  place 
Mrs.  Royster  held  her  august  sway  and  also  the 
official  position  of  postmistress  for  the  settlement,  that 
honor  having  been  thrust  upon  her  because  no  one 
else  would  have  it. 

By  the  spring*  stood  a  child  of  some  ten  or.  eleven 
years  of  age,  dressed  in  a  loose  gown  of  coarse,  brown 
ducking.  Her  feet  were  bare  and  scarred  by  daily 
contact  with  stone  and  stubble.  This  was  Nana 
Meers,  adopted  daughter,  bound  child,  ward,  or  no- 
body knew  what,  of  the  Roysters.  She  was  beautiful, 
not  with  the  soft  outlines  and  fresh  tints  of  the  ordi- 
narily pretty  child,  but  wildly,  defiantly  dark  and 
lovely.  Her  arms  were  full  of  long  trailing  rush 
blades,  and  a  sober  smile  stole  into  her  great  eyes,  as 
she  stroked  the  green,  glossy,  ribbon-like  things,  with 


A   LILY   AMONG   WEEDS.  II 

one  little  brown  palm.  The  look  changed  when  the 
herd  boy  rode  past.  It  became  intense  and  eager. 
She  flew  to  him,  and  put  her  hand  entreatingly  upon 
his  stirrup. 

1 1  What  is  it,  young  '  un  ?  "  came  the  gruff  query. 

"Oh  Lund,  you  won't  forget  to  get  my  almanick, 
now  will  you  ? ' '  she  coaxed  plaintively. 

"  Not  if  I  think  of  it,"  was  the  curt  reply,  and  the 
boy  drove  his  cattle  away,  over  the  hills  and  out  of 
sight. 

The  child,  however,  was  contented.  She  returned 
to  the  shade  of  the  willows  and  sat  down  musing. 
"I'm  going  to  have  a  almanick!  Won't  it  be  awful 
splendid!  It  won't  be  a  old  one,  but  bran'  new  with 
white,  shiny  leaves,  and  it  won't  be  a  borrered  one, 
but  all  mine,  mine,  mine!  If  Lund  don't  forget  it,  it 
will,  and  I  guess  he  won't." 

Presently,  a  head  appeared  at  one  of  the  upper 
windows  of  the  house.  Nana  started  when  she  saw  it, 
dropping  some  of  the  rush  blades  into  the  spring. 

"  See  here!  You  get  away  from  that  spring  with 
your  rubbish,  you  imp!  "  was  the  greeting  of  the  new- 
comer. 

"  I  ain't  a  imp!  "  came  the  prompt  reply, "  and  I'm 
glad  I  spilled  'em  in  the  spring!  " 

'  *  Take  care  how  you  talk  to  me. ' ' 

"But  I  ain't!" 

"Didn't  I  say  shut  up?" 

"But  I  ain't!" 

"  I'll  come  down  there  and  larrup  you  if  you  say 
that  again!" 


1 2  LUCKY. 

"If  you  do,  I'll  kill  you!" 

"Haw!  Haw!  Haw!  Talk  about  killin',  you 
little  slim  snipe!  " 

"  But  I  will— I'll  choke  you  to  death!  " 

"Haw!  Haw!  Haw!" 

"  Stop  laughin'  at  me,  you  big — big  brute!  " 

"  Look  a'  here,  young  one,  you're  a  gettin'  a  little 
too  sassy.  Dry  up,  and  go  tend  your  ducks." 

"  I  won't  tend  the  ducks,  and  I'll  put  more  stuff  in 
the  spring  if  I  want  to." 

The  child  with  a  determined  toss  of  the  head  arose, 
and  started  to  run  away.  She  had  not  proceeded  far, 
however,  when  she  heard  heavy  footfalls  behind  her, 
and  soon  a  rough  hand  grasped  her  shoulder. 

'  *  Say  that  again ! ' '  hissed  a  voice  in  her  ear. 

"I  will  if  I  want  to." 

The  hand  tightened  its  grasp.  Nana  turned,  and 
struck  at  her  tormentor  with  her  little  brown  fist,  at 
which  he  laughed  exasperatingly.  If  strength  of 
spirit  could  slay,  Bub  Royster  in  one  second  would 
have  been  no  more.  As  it  was,  Nana  could  only 
battle  in  the  cause  of  justice  with  feet,  teeth,  and  nails, 
which  she  did  right  manfully.  Bub  Royster  only 
laughed  the  more. 

"Now,  see  here.  I'm  going  to  drown  you  for 
your  impudence,"  he  said  at  last,  when  tired  of  the 
sport.  Nana  struggled  while  he  dragged  her  to  the 
edge  of  the  spring;  but  soon  her  fragile  form  relaxed, 
and  she  felt  her  head  thrust  beneath  the  surface. 
Then  she  fainted  from  exhaustion  and  fright. 


A   LILY   AMONG   WEEDS.  1 3 

When  she  recovered  consciousness,  she  was  lying 
on  the  grass,  her  dress  wet  from  the  water  which 
dripped  from  her  curls,  and  a  woman  in  high,  metallic 
voice  was  saying: 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  duckin'  her  in  there,  and 
sp'ilin'  the  water?" 

"She  called  me  names,"  said  Bub. 

4 'Well,  you  jist  stop  this  onery  behavin'  or  I'll  tell 
your  pap." 

Nana  sat  up,  and  laughed  aloud.  Oh,  it  is  a  rare 
day  when  we  see  those  who  have  made  us  suffer  dis- 
comfited in  turn! 

The  woman  hearing  the  uncontrollable  merriment, 
turned  upon  the  child. 

' '  Here  you  ugly  sprite,  you  get  out  of  here,  and 
go  to  your  ducks,  or  I'll  make  you  laugh  out  of  the 
other  corner  of  your  mouth.  You  ought  to  be  in  the 
Deform  School,  and  you'll  get  sent  there  too,  first 
thing  you  know!  " 

Not  caring  to  match  her  strength  with  any  one  else 
this  morning,  Nana  scampered  away,  but  once  out  of 
sight  and  hearing,  she  paused,  and  her  little  face  turned 
livid  with  rage  and  indignation. 

"  If  I  could  only  kill  them  Roysters!"  she  ex- 
claimed, stamping  her  foot.  Then  a  sudden  thought 
struck  her.  Falling  upon  her  knees,  she  clasped  her 
hands  and  prayed. 

"  O  God,  I  hate  'em  all,  Bub  and  Mis'  Roysterand 
all,  and  I  want  you  to  come  and  kill  'em,  dead,  dead, 
dead —  all  but  Lund —  he's  going  to  get  me  a  alma- 
nick.  Amen. ' ' 


14  LUCKY. 

"  I  guess  they're  fixed  now,"  she  said  as  she  arose. 

The  ducks  were  an  exceedingly  wild  species  and 
required  constant  watching,  lest  they  should  wander 
away  and  join  the  nomadic  flocks  which  daily  flew  over 
the  farm,  now  and  then  pausing  to  visit  their  more 
domestic  brothers  and  sisters,  and  express  their  con- 
tempt for  civilization.  The  Roysters,  however,  need 
not  care,  since  they  were  to  suffer  annihilation  so  soon. 
The  sun  was  warm  and  the  atmosphere  lazy.  Nana 
threw  herself  down  among  the  tall  grasses,  and  let  the 
ducks  go  their  way.  When  time  came  for  returning 
home,  she  could  find  but  half  the  flock. 

She  forebore  to  search  for  them.  The  Roysters 
might  beat  her  to-day  for  her  carelessness,  but  they 
never  would  again.  They  were  going  to  die. 

As  she  had  expected,  soon  after  her  return,  Mrs. 
Royster's  stout  cottonwood  switch  was  called  into 
requisition.  Nana  did  not  cry  when  the  blows  rained 
down  upon  her  tender  shoulders.  She  was  triumph- 
ing in  her  sincere  belief  that  the  sway  of  the  tyrant 
was  brief.  Mrs.  Royster  was  nonplussed. 

"Oh,  it  don't  hurt,  don't  it?  Well,  I'll  give  you 
something  that  will ! ' '  and  the  blows  fell  thicker  and 
faster.  Then  Nana  wept  for  the  sake  of  policy,  all 
the  while  her  heart  was  exulting. 

"  Oh,  Lund!"  she  cried  to  the  herd  boy,  as  he  came 
toiling  tired  and  hungry  up  the  path.  ' '  I  want  to  tell 
you  something.  It's  a  nawful  secret!  " 

"Well,  what  is  it  !  " 

"By  to-morrer  morning,  the  Roysters  will  all  be 


A   LILY   AMONG   WEEDS.  15 

dead!  "  she  answered  in  a  whisper  not  untinged  with 
awe. 

"The  young  'un's  crazy,"  Lund  muttered. 

"  No  I  aint,  and  you'll  see  for  yourself — and  oh, 
Lund,  did  you  get  my  almanick  ?  " 

' '  No.     Forgot  it.     Come  on  to  supper. ' ' 

But  Nana  did  not  care  for  supper.  That  almanac 
had  been  the  desire  of  her  heart  for  days.  The 
Royster  family  had  no  books,  not  even  a  bible,  and 
the  almanac,  especially  if  there  were  pictures,  con- 
tained for  the  lonely  child,  food  for  a  whole  year  of 
dreams.  She  crept  up  to  her  ragged  bed  in  the  gar- 
ret under  the  rafters,  to  sob  out  her  disappointment. 
She  had  not  been  there  long  when  a  rough,  though 
not  unkindly  voice  called: 

"Nane!" 

The  girl  sat  up  and  dried  her  tears. 

"  It's  Lund!  Maybe  he  has  been  teasing  me,  and 
has  brought  the  almanick,  after  all!  Oh,  Lund,  where 
is  it? "  holding  out  her  hand. 

"  Here,"  said  Lund,  depositing  in  the  outstretched 
palm,  a  huge  piece  of  corn-bread  savored  with  sorg- 
hum molasses. 

"Oh,  no,  not  that!  " 

"  Well,  what  did  you  expect  ?  Apple-pie  and  plum- 
puddin?  " 

"  No,  no!  I  only  want  my  almanick!  "  she  sobbed. 

"I — I  forgot  it,"  stammered  Lund.  I  didn't  go 
near  the  burg  to-day.  I  didn't  know  you  cared  so 
much.  What  do  you  want  an  almanick  for  anyway, 
kid?" 


1 6  LUCKY. 

"Oh,  Lund,  they  are  de-light-ful !  Such  pictures, 
and  such  readin'." 

"  Well,  I'll  go  to-morrer,  cross  my  heart,  I  will!  " 

"Bless  you,  Lund!"  and  Nana  threw  her  arms 
about  the  boy's  neck,  and  kissed  him. 

"  Oh  my!  The  girl  is  crazy  shore  enough!  "  mut- 
tered Lund.  "But,"  he  observed,  after  a  little 
reflection,  "  I  don't  know  but  I  like  such  craziness, 
after  all." 

"  You,  Lundy!"  called  Mrs.  Royster  sharply,  from 
below. 

"I  must  go;  Mis'  Royster' s  a  callin',"  said  Lund 
reluctantly. 

"  What  are  you  a  doin'  a  wastin'  ot  you  time  up 
there  ?  Come  down  here  this  minute,  or  I'll  pack  you 
right  off  to  the  Perform  School!  There's  the  young 
calves  to  feed,  and  the  turkeys  to  shut  up,  and  the 
kindlin'  to  get  in 'gainst  mornin'.  What  with  you 
and  that  shiftless  girl  a  shirkin'  of  your  work,  I'll  be 
driv'  to  my  grave,"  the  voice  continued. 

"  Good-bye,  kid.     Sorry  I  can't  stay,"  said  Lund. 

"You  won't  forget  to  remember  to-morrer,"  the 
girl  asked,  creeping  close  to  him,  and  laying  her  cheek 
against  his  ragged  sleeve. 

' '  Catch  me  a  forgettin' . ' ' 

"  If  you  aint  the  laziest,  good  for  nothingest  rascal 
that  ever  lived!  I — "  from  below. 

"Yes'm,  yes'm,"  answered  Lund  promptly,  thus 
pouring  oil  on  the  troubled  waters. 

An  hour  later  every  one  on  the  farm  was  asleep 


A    LILY    AMONG    WEEDS.  1 7 

except  the  boy.   He  was  tossing  to  and  fro  on  his  hard 
bed  saying  over  and  over  to  himself: 

"  She  did  take  it  hard  didn't  she  ?     Well,  I'll  get  it 
for  her  to-morrer,  shore.      Pore  little  kid ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  DREAMING  GIRL  AND  A  PRAIRIE 
KNIGHT. 

YOU,  Lundy!" 
1 '  W-li-a-a-t  ?  ' '  was  the  drowsy  reply. 

"  Is  that  the  way  to  speak  to  me,  you  pack  o'  lazy 
bones  ?  Why  don' t  you  say,  '  what  mum  '  to  your 
betters  ! ' ' 

* '  What  mum  ?  ' '  repeated  Lund  obediently. 

"  You  jest  stir  your  stumps  now  and  mount  up  to 
that  loft,  and  tell  that  girl  to  be  up  and  about  a 
searchin'  for  them  ducks,  for  I  swear  she  shan't  have 
a  bite  to  eat  till  I  see  them,  every  blessed  one  before 
my  very  eyes. ' ' 

Having  issued  these  peremptory  orders,  Mrs.  Roy- 
ster  went  her  way  singing: 

"  How  tedious  and  tasteless  the  hour." 

She  did  not  know  the  hymn  and  never  got  beyond 
the  first  line,  following  out  the  air  with  a  cracked  and 
doleful  hum.  The  farm  hands  averred  that  she  made 
many  an  hour  tedious  and  tasteless  for  them  with  that 
hum. 

Lund  opened  his  eyes,  surprised  to  find  it  morning 
so  soon.  He  arose  and  dressed,  then  climbed  the 
shaky  ladder  very  softly,  lest  he  should  awaken  the 
sleeper  a  moment  before  he  must.  Lund's  hours  of 


A  DREAMING  GIRL  AND  A  PRAIRIE   KNIGHT.      19 

slumber  were  dear  to  him,  being  as  they  were  the  hap- 
piest of  his  life,  and  it  seemed  cruel  to  rouse  the  girl 
from  sweet  unconsciousness  to  ugly  hard  reality.  Be- 
sides, Nana  had  become  an  especial  object  of  consider- 
ation to  him  since  the  previous  night.  No  one  but 
she  had  ever  kissed  him  since  the  day  his  mother  had 
been  laid  to  rest  in  the  back  woods  of  Iowa. 

"Nane!"  he  called  gently,  perking  his  head  up 
over  the  floor  of  the  loft.  No  answer. 

"Nane!"  still  louder. 

' '  H-e-y  ? ' '  from  the  corner  where  Nana  lay,  half 
asleep,  half  awake. 

' '  Mis'  Royster  says — ' ' 

' '  Aint  she  dead  yet  ?  ' '  inquired  the  drowsy  Nana. 

"  Dead,  Nane?     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

''Just  what  I  say.  Well,  if  she  ain't,  she  will  be 
soon.  Tell  her  I'm  comin'." 

Not  long  after,  Nana  came  into  the  little  bare  apart- 
ment which  served  as  dining-room  and  kitchen  in  one, 
where  the  farm  hands  were  devouring  their  morning 
repast. 

' '  You  get  out  o'  here, ' '  was  Mrs.  Royster' s  greeting. 

"  I  won't  till  I've  had  my  breakfast,"  declared  Nana. 

"You  won't!  Well,  we'll  see,"  Mrs.  Royster 
returned,  accompanying  her  remark  with  a  sound  box 
on  Nana's  ear. 

The  farm  hands  laughed.  Mrs.  Royster  gave  them 
an  approving  look. 

"  See  there.  They're  laughin'  at  you,  spunky,  and 
well  you  deserve  it.  Now  get. ' ' 


20  LUCKY. 

"  I  don't  care  how  much  they  laugh.  They're  just 
as  bad  as  you  are,  and  I  hate  'em  just  as  much,  and 
I'm  going  to  have  something  to  eat,"  said  Nana, 
seizing  a  plate  of  corn  bread  that  stood  within  reach. 

"  Oh,  you  will,  will  you  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Royster, 
"We' 11  see  about  that." 

She  caught  Nana's  hand,  and  tried  to  wrest  the 
bread  from  her,  but  the  child  clung  to  it  as  an  animal 
clings  to  its  prey. 

"  I'll  fix  you  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Royster,  coming  in 
just  in  time  to  witness  the  disturbance.  * '  You  are 
gettin'  a  bit  too  sassy  to  the  folks  that  feed  and  clothe 
you  and  teach  you  manners. ' '  With  this,  he  snatched 
the  food  from  her  hand,  and,  thrusting  her  out,  closed 
the  door  upon  her. 

The  next  moment  an  unearthly  scream  rent  the  air, 
and  looking  in  the  direction  whence  it  came,  they  saw 
Nana,  peering  through  the  window,  shaking  her  fist 
with  intense  violence,  her  face  livid,  her  eyes  aflame, 
and  her  slight  figure  quivering  from  head  to  foot. 

"Ah,"  she  cried,  through  her  clenched  teeth, 
11  You'd  better  be  down  on  your  knees  a  sayim'  your 
prayers  from  now  on,  for  you  aint  long  for  this  world, 
none  of  you  !" 

"What  ails  the  young  one?"  said  Mrs.  Royster, 
as  Nana  vanished. 

' '  She' s  mad, ' '  said  Mr.  Royster.  ' '  She  needs  that 
taken  out  of  her,  and  by  the  old  Harry,  she'll  get  it 
done  too." 

"She's  an  awful  young  one,"  said  the  girl  who 
waited  on  the  farm  hands. 


A  DREAMING   GIRL    AND   A   PRAIRIE   KNIGHT.      21 

"Terrible  !"  echoed  the  hands. 

"She's  half  crazy,"  said  Bub  Royster. 

' '  She  ought  to  have  been  sent  to  the  Inform  School 
long  afore  this,"  said  his  mother. 

Lund,  who  was  at  the  table,  listened  silently  ;  but 
his  food  stuck  in  his  throat,  and  refused  to  be  washed 
down  by  constant  deluges  of  water  from  his  tin  cup. 

"  What's  the  matter,  boy?  Your  face  is  as  red  as 
a  beet,"  remarked  the  man  who  sat  next  to  him. 

"  Nothin',"  muttered  Lund  dropping  his  eyes. 

"Try in'  to  eat  too  fast.  Don't  be  afraid;  you'll 
get  enough,  greedy,"  said  Mrs.  Royster. 

When  he  went  out,  Lund  found  Nana  sitting  in  a 
disconsolate  attitude  in  her  accustomed  place  under 
the  willows  by  the  spring.  He  had  his  dinner-bag  in 
his  hand.  He  threw  it  into  her  lap. 

1 '  There,  Nane, ' '  he  said,  '  'take  it  and  run  for  your 
life.  They'll  half  kill  you  if  they  find  you  here." 

"  But  you  won't  have  any,  then." 

"  I  don't  care.     I'm  a  boy.     I  don't  get  hungry." 

The  tears  rose  to  Nana's  eyes. 

"I  won't  take  it  at  all,  Lund,  dear.     Here's  half 
of  it  back.     Now,   I'll  scoot,  and  before  I  get  back 
they'll  all  be  dead.     Won't  we  have  good  old  times 
when  they're  gone  ?     Don't  forget  the  almanick." 
*  *  #  #  *  # 

The  long  grass  swayed  to  and  fro  with  a  sleepy 
sound;  the  lithe  dragon-fly  hovered  over  the  little  pools 
of  stagnant  water,  beside  which  the  child  lay  with  half- 
closed  eyes,  watching  the  graceful  darting  hither  and 


22  LUCKY. 

thither  of  the  pretty  creatures  on  their  transparent 
wings. 

' '  I  wonder  why  they  stay  around  those  ugly 
puddles,"  she  mused  dreamily.  "If  I  had  wings,  I'd 
fly  away  to  where  everything  was  nice."  Then,  as 
the  low,  mournful  call  of  the  prairie  gopher  fell  upon 
her  ear,  she  reflected  :  ' '  What  makes  him  feel  so 
bad  ?  He  must  have  lost  friends  that  he  can't  forget. 
I  never  had  any  friends,  so  I  feel  bad  like  him.  Poor 
thing!" 

At  intervals  a  freight-line  teamster  passed  down  the 
great  road,  which,  in  the  parlance  of  the  West,  led 
from  ' '  Omaha  to  Idaho. ' '  Nana  could  hear  the  creak  of 
the  oxen' s  yoke  and  the  snap  of  the  driver' s  whip.  The 
teamsters  were  called  bull-whackers,  and  Nana  never 
quite  overcame  her  dread  of  them.  Every  time  she 
heard  their  rasping  "Whoa,  haw,"  she  crouched  farther 
down  in  the  grass  to  hide.  She  believed  them 
terrible  creatures,  in  whom  the  spirit  of  torture  was 
instinctive,  and  whose  chief  delight  was  to  mistreat  the 
poor  dumb  animals  which  they  drove.  It  had  been 
the  custom  of  Mrs.  Royster  when  the  child  was  younger 
to  frighten  her  into  submission  by  the  threat,  "I'll  give 
you  to  the  bull-whackers. ' '  Now,  despite  her  endeavor 
to  keep  well  out  of  sight,  one  of  them  had  espied  her. 

"Hello  there,  little  'un!  "  he  cried,  stopping  his 
wagon,  "  What  do  you  know  ?  I  am  dogoned  thirsty, 
and  want  a  drink.  There's  water  there  I  should  say, 
by  the  rushes." 

Nana's  heart  beat  wildly,  but  she  was  determined 


A    DREAMING    GIRL    AND  A    PRAIRIE   KNIGHT.       23 

not  to  show  her  fear.  She  pointed  out  to  him  a  little 
spring  that  she  had  hollowed  out  of  a  bank  with  her 
own  hands,  aided  by  a  piece  of  broken  milk  crock. 

"Gee,  that's  good  !"  exclaimed  the  man,  when  he 
had  quenched  his  thirst.  "Little  'un,  you  are  a 
trump.  What's  better  than  a  drink  o'  cold  water  to 
a  man  that's  dry?  Good-bye,  chick.  If  you  ever 
come  to  the  city  where  I  live  you  must  make  me  a 
visit,  shore.  I've  two  or  several  little  girls  like  you, 
and  I  think  a  heap  of 'em.  Here's  a  paper  of  goodies 
one  of  'em  stuck  in  my  pocket  th'  other  day,  when  I 
left.  I  aint  much  of  a  sweet  tooth  myself,  and  I'll 
give  'em  to  you." 

Nana  took  the  package  with  a  half  audible  '  'thank'  e, 
sir,"  as  she  had  been  taught.  The  man  went  on, 
and  the  little  girl  sat  down  to  examine  the  gift.  It 
proved  to  be  ginger  snaps.  Better  than  all,  the  paper 
in  which  they  were  wrapped  contained  a  wonderful 
story,  which  suited  her  appetite  also.  It  was  about 
a  noble  man  who  expended  his  immense  wealth  in 
founding  colleges  and  building  schools  for  orphan 
children  such  as  she.  Dr.  Eustace  was  the  gentleman's 
name.  He  cured  the  sick  too,  with  a  wonderful 
remedy  known  as  Dr.  Eustace's  Miraculous  Com- 
pound. Many  a  young  man,  the  story  said,  had 
received  a  start  in  business  from  this  benevolent 
gentleman,  whose  chief  thought  in  life  was  to  do  good 
to  his  fellow  creatures. 

"  I  wonder  if  he  would  do  anything  for  me,"  medi- 
tated Nana.  "What  a  good  man  he  must  be  !" 


24  LUCKY. 

Her  dreams  were  cut  short  by  the  sound  of  a  voice, 
singing  lustily  : 

"Old  Missouri,  souri,  soo, 
Old  Missouri  ay, 
Old  Missouri  is  the  place 
For  you  and  I." 

There  was  a  rustle  among  the  rushes  and  a  step 
near  at  hand. 

"  Wall,  I  never  !"  broke  from  the  lips  of  the  new- 
comer. 

' '  Nana  looked  up  sullenly.  He  was  a  neighbor,  a 
bachelor,  who  lived  all  alone  on  his  claim,  some  miles 
distant.  He  had  a  broad  jaw  covered  by  a  thin, 
stubby  beard,  a  hair  lip,  small  fish-like  eyes,  hulking 
body,  and  ambling  gait.  Nana  despised  him,  ?.nd 
took  pains  to  show  it. 

''Wall,  I  never  !"  he  repeated.  "  I  go  out  to  find 
wild  game,  and  run  right  onto  a  tame  gal.  Or  bent 
you  tame,  little  'un  ?  I  swow  I  can't  tell  by  the  looks 
of  you." 

Nana  did  not  condescend  to  reply.  Joe  Slocum, 
for  that  was  the  man's  name,  placed  the  butt  end  of 
his  gun  upon  the  ground,  and  leaned  against  the  barrel, 
regarding  the  child  with  much  amusement. 

"Wall,  my  gal!"  he  said  at  length  in  the  same 
jocular  tone,  "  when  air  you  goin'  to  marry  me  ?  " 

Nana  immediately  found  voice. 

"  Marry  you!     I  aint  goin'  to  at  all!  " 

"  Yes,  you  air." 

"No,  I  aint." 


A   DREAMING  GIRL  AND   A  PRAIRIE   KNIGHT.      25 

The  man  laughed  exasperatingly. 

"  Your  pap  give  you  to  me." 

Her  ire  was  now  thoroughly  roused. 

"Go  away!"  she  cried,  stamping  her  feet.  "I 
aint  got  any  pap,  and  you  are  tellin'  lies." 

"  No  I  aint,  and  you'll  be  glad  on't  too,  when  you 
come  to  keep  house  for  me  in  my  little  shanty.  I'm  a 
good  marksman,  and  you'll  have  plenty  of  prairie 
birds  to  cook.  It'll  be  mighty  fine." 

4 'But  I  aint,  I  aint,"  protested  Nana. 

"Yes  you  air — oh,  no  you  aint,  kid,  if  you're  goin' 
to  look  so  glum  about  it — not  till  the  time  comes  any- 
way. What  air  you  a  doin'  of  here  ? ' ' 

"  None  of  your  business.  I've  lost  my  ducks,  and 
they  have  sent  me  out  to  hunt  '  em  up. ' ' 

11  Let  'em  alone  and  they'll  come  home,  a  waggin' 
their  tails  behind  'em,"  chuckled  Slocum. 

* '  Shall  I  find  your  birds  for  you  ?  "  he  inquired 
presently.  "  P 11  warrant  I  can. ' ' 

He  was  off  without  delay,  but  returned  shortly  with 
a  string  of  game  over  his  arm,  which  he  flung  at  her 
feet. 

( *  There  you  air.  They  went  out  in  the  mornin' , 
I'll  warrant,  as  noisy  and  gossipy  as  a  lot  o'  gals,  but 
they  come  back  as  quiet  a  pack  o'  fowl  as  I  ever  see. ' ' 

Nana  looked  at  them  ruefully. 

"I'll  make  it  all  right  with  the  old  man  and  old 
woman,"  suggested  Slocum. 

Still  Nana  did  not  speak.  She  kept  gazing  at  the 
mute,  inglorious  birds. 


26  LUCKY. 

* '  What  time  will  you  go  home  ?  ' '  questioned  the 
man. 

1 '  At  dinner  time, ' '  and  her  hungry  eyes  wandered 
towards  the  sun. 

"I'll  be  there,"  said  Slocum,  and  walked  away. 
****** 

' '  What,  Nana  Meers !  The  ducks  are  dead ! 
What  can  you  mean  ? ' '  exclaimed  Mrs.  Royster  when 
Nana  had  imparted  the  news  to  her. 

"  They  are  dead,  that's  all,"  said  Nana  doggedly. 
* '  Give  me  my  dinner. ' ' 

1 '  You  shall  never  have  another  bite,  you — ' ' 

' '  Yes,  she  shall  too, ' '  interposed  a  voice,  the  voice 
of  Joe  Slocum.  He  had  come  up  unperceived  by 
both  Mrs.  Royster  and  the  girl. 

"  Here,  I'll  pay  for  the  birds.  I  shot  'em.  Give 
the  gal  her  dinner.  Air  you  goin'  to  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  I'll  lick  her  first!"  cried  the  woman, 
making  a  spring  at  Nana. 

1 '  Not  if  I  know  it, ' '  answered  the  man,  placing 
himself  in  front  of  the  child. 

Mrs.  Royster  looked  thunder  clouds  at  the  in- 
truder. 

"I'd  like  to  know  what  business  it  is  of  yours,  Joe 
Slocum,"  she  ejaculated  fiercely.  "  Don't  I  house 
and  keep  her  ?  ' ' 

' '  Yes, ' '  said  Slocum  impressively  drawing  close  to 
his  angry  neighbor,  "but  I'll  tell  you  what;  the 
gal's  mine.  You  give  her  to  me,  and  she's  mine, 
and  I  aint  goin'  to  have  her  sp'iled  by  thrashin'  nor 
starvin'  neither.  You  jest  put  that  in  your  pipe." 


A  DREAMING   GIRL   AND   A   PRAIRIE   KNIGHT.      27 

Mrs.  Royster  was  somewhat  appeased,  but  muttered 
something  about  encouraging  the  young  imp  in  her 
bad  ways. 

"See  here,  chick,"  said  Slocum,  turning  to  Nana, 
"if  this  here  woman  don't  treat  you  well,  you  jest 
come  to  me.  Now,  will  you  ? ' ' 

Nana  did  something  quite  unexpected  by  both 
enemy  and  friend.  She  turned  upon  the  good  Sa- 
maritan with, 

"No,  I  won't!  Not  if  she  beats  me  into  the 
ground,  I  won't — not  if  she  starves  me  dead!  " 


CHAPTER  III. 

FOLK   LORE  AND   THE  NEW  NEIGHBORS. 

YES,  I  know,  or  I  think  I  do." 
The  speaker  was  Lund.     Nana  had  just  told 
him  of  her  interview  with  Joe  Slocum. 

"Well?"  said  the  girl  impatiently,  as  the  boy 
paused  a  moment  studying  the  proceedings  of  a 
swarm  of  ants  that  were  bustling  about  a  hill  at  his 
feet. 

' '  Well, ' '  continued  Lund  thoughtfully,  ' '  it  was  the 
day  I  was  sick  and  couldn't  herd.  Joe  Slocum  came 
over  to  see  about  ridin'  to  town  with  Royster  next 
time  he  went  with  a  load  of  cheese,  and  I  heard  them 
talkin'.  I  was  hidin'  under  the  big  vat  in  the  cheese 
house  for  fear  some  one  would  find  me  and  set  me  to 
work,  and  I  heard  Royster  tell  old  Slocum  that  as 
soon  as  you  were  big  enough,  Slocum  could  pay  Roy- 
ster three-hundred-dollars  for  your  keep,  and  marry 
you.  Then  they  shook  hands,  and  took  a  drink  out 
of  the  bottle  that  Royster  keeps  under  a  big  canister 
in  the  cheese  house." 

' '  Did  they  say  any  more  ? ' ' 

' '  No.  Just  then  I  had  to  sneeze,  and  Slocum  come 
and  pulled  me  out  from  under  the  vat.  But  Royster 
said  'don't  be  afeard  of  the  boy.  He  won't  blab.' 
And  he  winked  and  put  his  front  finger  on  his  fore- 
head." 


FOLK    LORE   AND    THE    NEW    NEIGHBORS.  2Q 

"  Well/'  said  Nana  firmly,  "I  think  I  see  myselt 
marryin'  Joe  Slocum." 

"  Won't  you  have  to?" 

Nana  threw  up  her  chin,  and  answered  by  repeat- 
ing the  old,  iron-clad  adage  of  the  bullwhackers, 
"  We  don't  have  to  do  anything  but  die." 

"  Oh,  Nane!  Such  a  girl!  I  wonder  if  you  really 
be  crazy.  Half  the  people  say  you  be. ' ' 

"  Pooh!  They're  crazy  themselves.  It's  all  be- 
cause I  take  my  own  part.  Now  you,  Lund,  you  are 
good;  you  never  sass  or  talk  back,  and  you're  never 
called  crazy.  But  between  you  and  me,"  she  went 
on  assuringly,  "you  are  the  craziest  of  the  two." 

Lund  was  half  convinced. 

"But  it's  an  awful  thing  to  die,"  he  hesitated  at 
length. 

"  Yes,  for  bad  folks.     For  good  ones  it's  nice." 

' '  But  you  ain'  t  good.     Everybody  says  you  ain'  t. ' ' 

"Maybe  I  ain't.  I  don't  care  if  I  ain't.  The 
Lord  knows  what  I  have  to  put  up  with.  He'll  ex- 
cuse me." 

1 '  Maybe  he  will, ' '  said  Lund  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
"I  hope  he  will." 

"  What's  this,  my  sharpies  ?  "  called  a  cheery  voice 
hard  by.  Both  children  started  at  the  sound. 

*'  I've  been  laying  for  prairie  chickens,  but  your 
gabble  scares  them  all  away,"  the  stranger  went  on. 
"  So  you're  discussing  theology,  are  you  ?  " 

"  No,  we're  talkin'  about  dyin',"  said  Lund. 

' '  Your  conversation  savored  of  the  science  which  I 


30  LUCKY. 

name.  Now,  you  leave  all  these  vexing  questions  to 
me,  for  I  have  a  diploma  at  home,  three  feet  square, 
which  proves  that  I'm  fully  capable  of  deciding." 
He  was  proud  of  his  superior  knowledge  and  experi- 
ence, this  handsome,  dashing  fellow,  who  stood  nearly 
six  feet  in  his  short  jacket,  high  boots,  and  corduroy 
trousers.  You  could  see  it  in  his  entire  bearing,  but 
more  especially  in  the  arrogant,  backward  tilt  of  his 
broad  sombrero,  which  disclosed  to  view  an  open, 
genial  brow  over  which  the  short,  brown  curls  tumbled 
in  a  very  becoming  confusion.  He  had  a  merry  hazel 
eye  and  large,  mobile  lips  forever  threatening  to  smile, 
but  seldom  getting  beyond  the  threat.  He  carried  a 
gun,  game  bag,  and  powder  horn. 

His  name  was  George  Fielding, but  he  was  commonly 
called  ' '  Lucky, ' '  for  it  was  his  favorite  boast  that  life 
for  him  was  one  jolly  round  of  gayety.  He  never 
undertook  anything  which  he  failed  to  accomplish,  was 
accustomed  to  the  admiration  which  success  and  good 
looks  are  sure  to  bring  and  was  somewhat  spoiled  by 
always  having  had  his  own  way.  He  possessed  one 
glaring  fault,  a  strange,  unconquerable  disposition  to 
pervert  the  truth,  to  lie  with  so  sober  a  front  that  even 
the  most  penetrating  reader  of  character  would  have 
sworn  he  spoke  gospel  facts.  His  friends  attributed  it 
to  a  vivid  imagination,  and  he  was  so  good  natured 
withal,  that  his  grave  failing  was  in  the  main,  over, 
looked. 

' '  Theology, ' '  he  went  on  to  explain  to  the  two 
wondering  innocents,  ' '  that  means  the  science  of 


FOLK  LORE  AND  THE  NEW  NEIGHBORS.     31 

religion.  The  real  thing  and  the  science  must  not  be 
confounded.  I  know  plenty  of  people  who  have 
theology  by  the  headful,  without  a  speck  of  religion 
in  their  hearts.  I  knew  a  woman  once  who  could 
talk  doctrine  by  the  hour,  tell  you  to  a  T  how  many 
rods  you'd  strayed  from  the  path  of  righteousness, 
had  measured  the  gate  of  heaven  with  a  tape  line,  and 
knew  how  many  steps  exactly  there  were  to  the  golden 
stair.  Why,  any  one  would  have  supposed  by  the 
way  she  talked  that  she  had  even  tested  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  river  Jordan.  She  always  hollered  in 
meeting.  Young  folks  of  the  worldly  sort  used  to  go 
for  miles  to  hear  her  holler.  And  what  do  you  sup- 
pose she  did,  one  day  ?  She  beat  her  horse  to  death 
for  eating  a  turnip  or  two  out  of  her  cart.  She  had 
theology.  Now  I'll  tell  you  another  story  of  a  woman 
who  had  religion.  You  couldn't  have  told  she  had 
anything  by  her  looks  or  conversation.  People 
thought  her  very  bad  because  she  never  professed  in 
public.  But  somehow,  wherever  a  kind  word  or  a 
helping  hand  was  needed  that  woman  was  there,  first 
of  all  to  put  her  shoulder  to  the  wheel.  She  gave  all 
the  cabbages  and  turnips  she  could  spare  to  the  poor, 
and  I've  no  doubt,  would  have  gone  hungry  herself 
rather  than  to  see  anyone  suffer.  She  had  a  temper 
of  her  own  too.  Yet  when  she  felt  cross  and  wicked, 
she  never  laid  the  blame  at  the  poor,  much  belied  old 
devil's  door,  but  took  a  good  dose  of  herbs  to  tone  up 
her  system,  smiled  and  went  on  as  before.  When 
she  died,  her  neighbors  shook  their  heads.  She  was 


32  LUCKY. 

such  a  good  soul,  it  was  too  bad  she  had  never  pro- 
fessed, they  said.  Then  they  sighed  and  agreed  to 
leave  her  in  the  hands  of  the  the  Lord,  to  dispose  of 
according  to  His  own  mercy,  since  they  could  not  help 
themselves." 

"  Of  course  the  Lord  knew,"  said  Lund  gravely. 

"  That  he  did,  my  hearty!    He  knew!  " 

The  young  man  was  beginning  to  glow  with  his 
favorite  theme. 

"  What  brought  sin  into  the  world?  "  asked  Nana. 
"  Royster  always  says  it  was  women,  when  he's  mad 
at  Mis'  Royster." 

''There's  another  story  only  half  told.  My  friend, 
the  editor  of  the  Elk  Bend  Sharpshooter  says  the 
secret  of  good  composition  is  in  the  suggesting  of 
more  than  you  really  say.  Now,  any  thoughtful 
person  could  plainly  see  that  Adam's  mouth  was 
watering  for  that  apple  all  the  while, but  he  didn't  dare 
touch  it.  It  was  the  same  spirit  which  prompts  fool- 
ishly fond  wives  of  to-day  to  sneak  half  the  dainties 
from  their  own  plate  to  that  of  their  husband,  which 
made  Eve  pick  the  fruit.  She  just  couldn'  t  bear  to 
see  his  mouth  water,  and  for  that  she's  blamed  to  this 
day.  I  always  felt  lenient  towards  Eve  for  another 
reason.  She  just  gave  him  plain  unvarnished  apple, 
fresh  from  the  tree.  If  she'd  gone  and  pealed  it,  and 
mixed  up  some  crust,  and  baked  it,  and  come  to  her 
lord  and  master  with  a  specimen  of  young  house- 
keeper's pie  in  her  hand,  I  wouldn't  venture  to  take 
her  part.  Eve  was  more  sensible  than  ungrateful  man 
gives  her  credit  for." 


FOLK    LORE    AND    THE    NEW   NEIGHBORS.  33 

' '  Mis'  Roystcr  says  the  devil  is  seekin'  to  devour 
all  such  youngsters  as  me,"  suggested  Nana. 

"Pshaw!  You're  not  at  all  suitable  to  the  old 
fellow's  taste." 

"  She  said  he'd  roast  me  over  a  fire.  Has  he  got  a 
fire?" 

"  Yes,  of  course.     Raw  meat  isn't  good  eating." 

"  Where  do  they  get  their  kindlin's  ?  " 

"Why  bless  you,  right  here  where  we  get  ours. 
They  know  a  thing  or  two,  and  one  thing  they  know 
is  that  dried  sunflower  stalks  are  the  very  best  kindling 
in  the  world.  Why,  I've  seen  them  skylarking  about 
on  this  very  dairy  farm,  whisking  their  tails  to  keep 
off  the  flies,  and  gathering  sunflowers  by  the  armful. 
They  are  all  black,  my  children,  with  long  hair  and 
horns.  I  fell  in  with  the  captain  of  the  band  one  day, 
and  we  sat  down  and  had  quite  a  chat." 

"Wasn't  you  afraid?" 

"  No,  the  heart  of  the  virtuous  knows  no  fear." 

"Why  didn't  I  ever  see  him?  I  always  pull  my 
sunbonnet  over  my  ears  and  eyes,  and  run  as  fast  as  I 
can  whenever  I  pass  a  cornfield,  for  Bub  Royster  says 
he's  apt  to  rush  out  and  catch  me  any  day." 

"  Ho!  He's  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  do  that. 
He'll  leave  sneaking  ways  to  Bub  Royster  and  his 
like.  In  fact  he  said  as  much  to  me.  And  moreover, 
he  said,  'Mr.  Fielding,'  he  always  addressed  me  as 
Mr.,  he  was  so  polite;  'Mr.  Fielding,'  said  he,  'I 
want  to  tell  you  something  in  strict  confidence.  I 
have  an  eye  to  business  though  I  do  seem  gay  and 


34  LUCKY. 

festive  now.  I've  been  thinking  pretty  hard  about 
that  Royster  family  up  there  on  the  dairy  farm.  I 
have  been  wondering  for  a  long  time  if  I  hadn'  t  better 
bag  them,  but  I  can't  make  up  my  mind.  The  fact 
is,  Mr.  Fielding,  (do  not  mention  it,  for  if  it  should 
get  abroad  'twould  ruin  my  reputation  forever,)  I  am 
half  afraid  of  them,  they  are  so  much  worse  than  I 
am.'  And  the  father  of  darkness  actually  blushed — 
blushed,  mind  you,  and  hid  his  face  in  his  bandana." 

While  he  was  finishing  his  peculiar  little  tale,  a 
young  lady  mounted  on  a  gentle  looking  mustang 
rode  up  and  joined  the  company.  So  engrossed  were 
Lucky  and  the  children  that  they  became  aware  of  her 
presence  only  when  she  spoke. 

"My  dear  Lucky!  What  nonsense  to  be  giving 
those  poor,  credulous  children!  " 

Lucky  looked  half  guilty,  half  amused.  Taking 
off  his  hat  he  bowed  to  the  beautiful  creature  and 
muttered  something  about  stating  the  case  as  it  stood. 

"As  it  stands  in  your  imagination,"  was  the  gay 
reply.  "  Don't  mind  him,  my  dears,  he  isn't  truthful. 
He  is  a  bad  boy.  He  ran  away  from  home  this 
morning  to  escape  a  disagreeable  duty,  and  I'll  tell 
you  about  it.  One  day  he  hired  to  a  certain  Mr. 
Slocum  to  do  some  breaking,  but  my  fastidious 
brother,  not  liking  that  gentleman's  cooking — I 
believe  he  is  his  own  housekeeper — played  hooky,  and 
vowed  he'd  never  go  back  again.  This  morning  as 
his  employer  came  to  see  about  it,  the  brave  young 
man  shouldered  his  gun,  and  escaped  through  the 


FOLK    LORE   AND    THE    NEW    NEIGHBORS.  35 

back  window  as  Mr.  S.  entered  the  front  door.  Now 
shame  him." 

"I'm  not  to  blame  now,  am  I?"  said  Lucky. 
"  Everybody  knows  that  Slocum  first  kneads  his  bread, 
then  sets  it  under  the  stove  for  the  pussy  cat  to  sleep 
in.  Why,  when  the  bread  comes  upon  the  table  it  is 
furnished  with  such  a  nice  set  of  furs  that  it  is  hard  to 
tell  where  cat  leaves  off  and  bread  begins." 

"  I  don't  believe  you,  Lucky,"  said  his  sister. 

* '  Can' t  help  it.  Have  given  you  the  gospel  truth 
as  did  the  prophets  before  me,  and  if  you  don't  accept 
it  'tisn't  my  fault.  I've  done  my  duty." 

Both  Miss  Fielding  and  her  brother  laughed  heartily 
at  this,  and  Lund  could  not  help  smiling  from  sympathy. 
But  Nana's  countenance  did  not  change. 

"  Why  so  sober,  little  one  ?  "  asked  the  lady. 

' '  She  is  thinking  of  the  Great  Terrible, ' '  said 
Lucky. 

' '  Come,  cheer  up,  you  little  wild  elfin.  There  is 
not  a  word  of  truth  in  these  stories." 

"Pooh!  I  don't  care  for  that,"  returned  Nana, 
"I've  things  to  bother  me  that  no  one  knows." 

Lucky  and  his  sister  smiled  again,  thinking  this 
speech  caught  from  her  elders. 

' '  What  is  the  trouble,  little  witch  ?  Has  your  doll 
broken  its  head  ?' '  asked  Miss  Fielding. 

"  I  don't  have  a  doll,"  answered  Nana. 

"  Indeed  !  wouldn't  you  like  to  have  one?" 

"  No,  I'd  rather  have  a  almanick." 

' '  Why  ? ' '  again  asked  the  young  lady  wonderingly. 


36  LUCKY. 

"  Because  it  is  nice  to  read." 

'  *  Then  you  can  read  ? ' ' 

"  Yes.     I  went  to  school  a  term  once." 

"  And  you  love  to  read  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  so.  It's  my  only  fun.  But  I  have 
to  hide  to  do  it." 

Having  promised  to  bring  the  child  a  whole  armful 
of  story  books  at  no  late  date,  Miss  Fielding  and  her 
brother  turned  to  go. 

* '  What  an  odd  child, ' '  mused  Miss  Fielding. 

' '  A  regular  sprite, ' '  said  Lucky.  ' '  Her  name  is 
Nana,  the  boy  tells  me;  I've  seen  him  often  before, 
you  know.  By  the  way,  that  chap  will  inherit  the 
earth  some  day — six  feet  of  it.  He's  as  blindly  meek 
as  an  ox.  Isn't  Nana  an  odd  name  for  a  girl  brought 
up  by  the  Roysters  ?  ' ' 

"Yes,  so  soft  and  refined.  She's  a  remarkably 
graceful  child  and  more  than  pretty.  They  ought  to 
be  proud  of  her. ' ' 

"Why  bless  you  she's  not  a  Royster  !  She's  a 
child  they're  just  keeping  for  some  reason  or  other. 
How  her  eyes  did  open  when  I  told  her  I  had  a 
personal  acquaintance  with  old  Hornie  !  A  Royster 
wouldn't  have  flinched — they  are  distant  connections 
of  his,  you  know.  Bub  is  a  family  name.  It's 
shortened  from  Beelzebub." 

' '  Lucky,  do  learn  to  curb  your  imagination  a  trifle 
at  least.  Do  you  know,  you  are  getting  quite  a 
reputation  in  the  settlement  for  that  sort  of  thing  ?' ' 

"What  !  Wouldst  rob  thy  gentle  brother  of  his 
only  joy ?  " 


FOLK    LORE   AND   THE   NEW   NEIGHBORS.          37 

"  Nonsense  !" 

"  Not  at  all.  I  like  to  lie.  I  believe  I  have  a 
talent  for  it.  We  must  cultivate  our  talents.  Every- 
body says  we  must." 

11  Well,  the  consequences  be  upon  your  own  head." 

"  I  have  often  thought  of  reforming.  I  will  reform, 
sis,  now  see  if  I  don't,  just  to  please  you.  But  it  is  a 
great  sacrifice.  You  remember  the  story  of  the  sick 
lady  who  died  when  her  looking-glass  was  broken, 
because  it  was  all  she  had  to  live  on.  Now  what  if ' ' 

"  Well,  there's  oats  in  the  bin  worth  thirty  dollars, 
and  we  can  have  a  pretty  respectable  funeral  in  these 
parts  for  that  amount.  Hadn't  we  better  step  up  a 
bit?  It  is  almost  noon." 

When  the  Fieldings  had  passed  out  of  sight,  Lund 
and  Nana,  who  had  been  watching  them  eagerly, 
turned  and  looked  at  each  other. 

"  The  new  neighbors,"  said  Nana. 

"  Yes,  over  in  the  new  house.  Mis'  Royster  says 
they're  awfully  stuck  up.  I've  seen  the  feller  before, 
but  not  the  girl.  They've  only  been  here  two  months. 
Slip's  the  one  somebody — they  think  it  was  Bub 
Royster — tried  to  rob  one  night  when  she  was  ridin' 
home  a  horseback." 

' '  I  remember, ' '  said  Nana. 

"  She's  as  pretty  as  a  picture,"  said  Lund.  "  But 
look,  Nane,  at  them  cows  away  off  there.  Good-bye." 

Lund  mounted  his  horse,  which  was  grazing  quietly 
near,  and  was  gone. 

Nana  went  back  to  the  pools  where  her  ducks  were 


38  LUCKY. 

sporting,  to  dream  away  the  remaining  hours  of  the 
forenoon.  Her  mind  was  full  of  the  new  neighbors. 
She  wondered  when  she  would  see  them  again,  and 
what  they  would  say  to  her. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
BUB  AND  ROSE. 

of  Royster's  steers  is  mired  !"  shouted  Joe 
Slocum  one  chilly  spring  day,  darting  into 
the  yard  of  Farmer  Dolby  on  his  wiry  little  mustang. 

"  Sakes  alive  !"  exclaimed  a  rosy  young  girl,  who 
stood  in  front  of  the  house,  scattering  crumbs  of  corn 
bread  to  a  crowd  of  noisy  fowls  which  surrounded  her. 
' '  How  did  it  happen  ?  Ma,  hear  that !  One  of 
Royster's  steers  is  mired  !  Get  your  bonnet,  and  come 
quick  !" 

' '  The  men  folks  aint  to  home, ' '  said  Mrs.  Dolby, 
bustling  out  upon  the  scene  with  a  shawl  and  hood  in 
her  hand.  "They  have  gone  to  mill,  but  me  and 
Rose  will  go  over. ' ' 

' '  So  the  men  folks  aint  to  home.  Then  I  must 
look  otherwheres  for  help.  But  you  and  Rose  go  on 
as  you  say.  Down  at  the  North  Pond,  mind  you. 
Mis'  Royster  and  Mis'  Blake  and  the  gals  be  all  there. 
Bub  and  his  pa  be  there  too,  I  guess."  This  with  a 
side  glance  at  Rose. 

The  miring  of  an  animal  was  quite  a  social  event  in 
these  regions.  It  was  all  that  balls,  receptions,  and 
races  are  to  their  city  cousins.  So,  when  Mrs.  Dolby 
and  her  daughter  arrived  at  the  pond,  they  found  a 
very  sociable  group  gathered  on  its  banks.  I  do  not 


40  LUCKY. 

mean  to  say  they  enjoyed  the  discomfort  of  the  poor 
brute  who  stood  knee  deep  in  the  soft  mud,  from  which 
he  could  not  extricate  himself ;  but  when  such  circum- 
stances occurred,  they  made  the  best  of  them. 

<f  Them  awful  sink  holes  !"  exclaimed  Rose  Dolby. 
Her  gladness  of  the  event  which  was  to  bring  her  in 
contact  with  the  one  she  admired  above  all  others,  did 
not  obliterate  her  pity  for  the  unfortunate  animal.  Her 
cheeks  burned  with  a  ruddy  glow,  and  her  pretty  lids 
were  becomingly  dewy,  when  Bub  arrived.  She  was 
the  first  object  his  eyes  fell  upon,  and  his  rough  heart 
gave  a  quick,  jerky  thump  under  his  brown  ducking 
jacket.  No  matter  how  cruel  and  unrelenting  a  man 
may  be,  he  likes  a  soft-hearted  woman  ;  and  Rose  was 
a  perfect  picture  of  sweet  sympathy. 

Bub's  face  gave  no  sign  as  he  looked  at  Rose.  He 
thought  sentiment  weak,  and  his  highest  ambition  was 
to  be  considered  strong.  So  he  nodded  a  careless 
good  morning  to  the  girl  he  loved;  then,  divesting 
himself  of  shoes  and  stockings,  waded  out  into  the 
water,  and  proceeded  to  fasten  the  ends  of  an  im- 
promptu pulley  round  the  body  of  the  ox,  and  throw 
a  blanket  over  its  quaking  hulk. 

"  Look  out  for  sink  holes,  Bub!  "  shouted  the  crowd 
on  the  bank. 

"  Yep,"  responded  Bub  with  a  nonchalant  shrug. 

Rose  thought  how  brave  and  strong  her  lover  looked, 
and  glowed  with  fond  pride.  Her  heart  yearned  to- 
wards him ;  but  he  was  so  cold,  so  indifferent.  Would 
he  never  change  ?  She  was  certain  that  she  should 


never 


BUB    AND    ROSE.  41 


never  marry  if  he  did  not,  but  remain  true  to  him 
until  death.  Rose  Dolby's  was  a  firm,  loyal  heart. 
Bub  was  not  worthy  of  such  pure  and  gentle  affection; 
but  worth  does  not  always  command  love,  and  the 
unworthy  are  often  thrice  blessed  in  this  respect. 

"  Poor  thing!  See  it  shake!  "  cried  a  woman  in  a 
cracked,  disagreeable  voice,  husky  with  a  cold. 

Rose  hid  her  face  in  her  mother's  shawl  to  shut  out 
the  sight  of  the  quivering  animal.  There  was  a  clank 
of  chains  and  a  shout  from  Bub.  He  had  come  ashore 
and  was  fastening  the  other  end  of  the  pulley  to  a  pair 
of  whiffietrees.  This  task  was  done,  the  horses  were 
•started  up,  and  the  ox  with  groans  and  struggles,  was 
slowly  dragged  through  the  sticky  mud  and  up  the 
steep  bank. 

Mrs.  Royster's  grim  features  relaxed  a  trifle  when 
she  saw  the  wet,  bedraggled  condition  of  her  son. 

"  Go  to  the  house  and  dry  your  clothes,  child,"  she 
advised  in  tones  that  were  almost  caressing. 

41  Oh  bother!  "  Bub  returned  savagely  shaking  off 
the  hand  she  laid  on  his  arm.  He  felt  that  Rose  was 
looking,  and  he  must  not  display  any  unmanly  weak- 
ness. ''I've  got  to  run  him  up  and  down  once  or 
twice,  or  he'll  die.  It's  only  half  to  get  him  out." 

1 '  But  you  are  wet  through.  Do  go,"  pleaded  Rose 
softly  in  his  ear.  "  You' 11  catch  your  death  of  cold." 

Bub  blushed  crimson,  and  his  heart  beat  wildly 
again.  Her  interest  in  his  welfare  was  very  sweet  to 
him,  but  he  would  not  for  the  world  have  shown  it. 
With  a  harsh,  cynical  laugh  that  sent  poor  Rose 


42  LUCKY. 

trembling  and  disconsolate  back  to  her  mother's  side, 
he  muttered  something  about  women's  being  such 
geese,  and  was  off  at  the  heels  of  the  martyred  ox. 

The  rest  of  the  party  adjourned  to  the  house  to 
drink  tea,  and  gossip  for  the  remainder  of  the  day. 
Rose  was  in  ecstacy.  To  be  near  Bub  for  a  space  of 
five  hours  was  a  rare  privilege;  and  after  he  had  shown 
himself  so  heroic  too!  Love  exaggerates  virtue  in  the 
beloved.  Rose  was  ready  to  declare  in  her  heart  that 
Bub  was  equal  to  any  hero  named  in  history. 

Of  course,  she  must  be  contented  to  see  and  admire 
at  a  distance,  for  he  would  scarcely  look  at  her.  He 
would  play  checkers  with  the  men,  and  talk  about 
pigs  and  crops.  But  what  matter  ?  She  would  be 
near  him,  she  could  hear  his  voice,  every  slide  and 
trick  of  which  she  knew  and  loved;  she  could  see  the 
motions  of  his  head  as  it  nodded  or  shook  under  his 
sombrero.  How  cunning  was  that  movement  of  the 
head  peculiar  to  him  alone,  and  how  gracefully  he  spat 
during  the  lapses  in  conversation !  No  other  man  spat 
like  that. 

Mrs.  Royster  came  up  to  introduce  Mrs.  Blake. 
Rose  bowed  absently.  Her  thoughts  were  all  on  Bub. 

"I  know  Miss  Dolby,"  said  Mrs.  Blake.  "She 
got  a  guinea  of  me  once." 

"  Oh,  did  you  know  her  ?  I  had  no  idee  you  was 
acquainted,"  said  Mrs.  Royster. 

"  How  is  the  guinea  ?  "  Mrs.  Blake  asked. 

"Pretty  well,  thank — that  is,"  stammered  Rose, 
"he's  dead." 


BUB   AND   ROSE.  43 

(<  Oh!  "  gasped  Mrs.  Blake  with  as  much  feeling  as 
ordinary  persons  display  on  hearing  of  the  decease  of 
an  acquaintance.  "  Is  that  so  ?  How  did  it  happen  ? 
Do  tell." 

1 '  I  think  the  pigs — no,  no,  I  guess  a  chunk  of  drift- 
wood fell  on  him." 

' '  That  Dolby  girl  is  slow,  aint  she?  "  remarked  Mrs. 
Blake  to  Mrs.  Royster  later  on. 

"  Slow!  Law,  no!  As  bright  and  likely  a  girl  as 
you  ever  met.  She  can  wash  and  iron  and  sew  beauti- 
ful, and  she  makes  the  best  bread  and  butter  in  the 
neighborhood.  Besides,  she'll  have  money  one  of 
these  days.  I  think  my  Bub's  fond  of  her,"  and  Mrs. 
Royster  folded  her  arms  and  smiled  significantly. 

After  dinner,  the  men  went  out  to  inspect  a  new 
blooded  calf  that  Mr.  Royster  had  just  bought,  while 
the  women  washed  the  dishes  and  swept.  Rose  Dolby, 
catching  sight  of  Nana  serenely  discussing  a  basin  of 
corn  bread  and  milk  in  a  corner,  sat  down  by  the  child, 
and  began  to  talk.  This  was  the  only  society  a  full 
heart  like  hers  could  trust.  She  was  eager  to  utter  the 
name  of  her  beloved,  and  Nana  she  thought,  was  too 
young  to  guess  her  secret  from  her  conversation.  She 
plied  the  child  with  questions  about  Mrs.  Royster,  the 
farm  and  its  appointments;  then,  tremblingly,  she 
spoke  of  Bub.  Bub  —  what  a  strong,  manly  name! 
How  expressive  of  the  nobility  of  him  who  bore  it! 
Rose  had  whispered  it  again  and  again  to  herself,  but 
to  speak  it  aloud,  and  listen  to  the  music  of  it  was 
pleasure  unmeasureable. 


44  LUCKY. 

"  Did  you  see  your  brother,  Bub,  when  he  waded 
out  into  the  deep,  cold  wa'  er  ?  "  queried  Rose.  ' '  I 
was  so  afraid  he'd  slip  and  fall." 

Nana  laughed.  That  any  one  should  care  if  mis- 
fortune did  come  to  Bub  was  ludicrous  in  the  extreme. 
She  should  have  been  delighted. 

"  He  aint  my  brother,"  was  her  laconic  reply. 

"  But  you  love  him  just  as  if  he  were,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't.     Nobody  loves  Bub  Royster." 

Rose  gave  a  little  start.  She  was  about  to  protest 
that  she  did  most  truly,  but  recollected  herself  in  time 
to  check  her  folly. 

"  He  aint  so  nice  as  Lucky  Fielding,"  Nana  went 
on. 

"  Lucky  Fielding!  Why  he  lies  and  lies  and  lies. 
Bub  don't." 

"  Maybe  he  don't.   But  I  like  Lucky.   He's  good." 

4 'Bub  don't  like  him." 

"  I  don't  care.     If  he  don't  he  needn't." 

"  But  you  ought  to  care.  You  ought  to  like  Bub. 
Bub's  folks  give  you  a  home  and  clothes  to  wear  and 
things  to  eat." 

Rose,  as  many  others  so  often  do,  had  forgotten 
that  love  is  not  a  negotiable  commodity. 

"  But  Lucky  gives  me  books,"  said  Nana. 

"  Books!  Would  you  rather  have  books  than  a 
home?" 

Nana  thought  a  moment,  then  replied, 

"  I  couldn't  get  along  without  them  books.  No  I 
couldn't." 


BUB   AND    ROSE.  45 

u  Do  you  ever  expect  to  fall  in  love,  Nana  ? ' ' 

Nana  nodded  promptly.  The  child  had  her  dreams 
of  the  inevitable  prince,  who  would  awaken  her  slum- 
bering heart  with  a  kiss. 

"  Then,  your  lover  will  be  brave  like  my — like  Bub, 
and  handsome  too  like  him." 

"  No,  I'm  goin'  to  marry  a  man  like  the  prince  in 
the  Cinderella  book  Lucky  gave  me — or  else  Lucky 
himself." 

Thus  the  conversation  continued  till  Mrs.  Royster 
seeing  Nana  idle,  a  thing  she  could  not  bear,  sent  the 
child  out  to  gather  in  chips. 

"  The  little  imp  has  been  a  worryin'  of  you,"  she  said 
to  Rose. 

"No,  no,"  said  Rose  who  was  sincerely  sorry  that 
she  was  gone,  "she's  a  nice  child.  I  am  real  fond  of 
her." 

' '  She  don' t  improve  on  acquaintance, ' '  said  Mrs. 
Royster  sourly.  "Since  she's  got  in  with  them 
Fieldin's,  she's  a  good  deal  worse  than  she  used 
to  be." 

' (  How,  Mrs.  Royster  ?  I  heard  her  say  she  liked 
the  Fieldings." 

"Well,  they're  a  bad,  stuck  up  set.  They  put  her 
up  to  all  kinds  of  tricks  and  spoil  her.  They  would 
Lund,  too,  only  he's  slow.  They  hate  Bub." 

"  I  used  to  like  them  myself,"  said  the  girl,  but  I'd 
no  idea  they  was  that  kind  of  folks.  I  hate  them 
now." 

Mrs.  Royster  went  back  to  her  work  with  a  satisfied 


46  LUCKY. 

smile.  It  was  pleasant  to  have  the  prospective  heiress 
agree  with  her  so  readily. 

The  real  cause  of  the  feud  between  Royster  and 
Fielding  was  this:  Miss  Fielding,  who  taught  school 
in  an  adjoining  district,  was  riding  home  one  evening 
just  at  dusk,  with  the  wages  for  a  month's  work  in  her 
pocket.  As  she  passed  a  dense  corn-field  a  man  with 
a  handkerchief  over  his  face,  darted  out,  and  catching 
her  bridle,  demanded  the  money  she  carried.  The 
brave  girl  neither  screamed  nor  fainted,  but  to  the 
utter  surprise  of  the  agressor,  braced  herself  in  her 
saddle,  and  laid  her  whip  about  his  head  in  so  vigor- 
ous a  manner,  that  he  soon  relinquished  his  hold  and 
slunk  back  under  the  shelter  of  the  corn.  The  next 
day,  Bub  Royster  had  appeared  with  face  strangely 
scarred  and  battered.  On  being  questioned  concern- 
ing his  mishap,  he  became  red  and  angry,  and  refused 
to  answer.  This  had  led  all  to  suppose  that  he  was 
the  culprit,  and  friendly  relations  between  the  two 
families  at  once  ceased. 

Evening  came.  The  guests  had  departed  at  last, 
the  farm  hands  had  retired,  and  the  Roysters,  mother 
and  son,  were  alone  together,  save  for  Nana,  who  was 
trying  to  read  by  the  dim  light  of  a  green  cottonwood 
fire. 

"See  here,  young  one,"  growled  Bub,  "You'd 
better  go  to  bed.  You're  not  worth  your  salt  since 
the  Fielding's  commenced  to  lend  you  books.  I'll 
pitch  them  into  the  fire  first  thing  you  know. ' ' 

"  Don't  you  dare!  "  cried  Nana  glowering  upon  him. 

11  Don't  talk  that  way  to  me." 


BUB    AND    ROSE.  47 


"  I'll  do  as  I  please.  I'm  not  the  Dolby  girl.  She 
thinks  your  an  angel,  but  I  don't." 

Bub  was  mollified.     His  tones  softened. 

1  *  How  do  you  know  she  thinks  it  ?  " 

"Oh,  she's  always  talking  about  you;  says  your 
brave  and  strong  and  handsome.  Guess  her  eyesight 
ain't  very  good." 

With  this  taunt  Nana  gathered  up  her  books  and 
marched  scornfully  away. 

The  remaining  two  looked  at  each  other  for  a 
moment.  Each  glowed  with  pleasure,  the  one,  how- 
ever, somewhat  shamefacedly.  At  length,  the  mother 
broke  the  silence. 

' '  There,  Bub  Royster,  if  you  let  the  grass  grow 
under  your  feet  before  you've  asked  her,  you're  a 
coward  and  a  fool.  She'll  have  money,  some  day, 
and  she'll  be  a  tip-top  manager." 

Bub  growled  out  something  about  not  wanting  to 
be  saddled  with  a  wife,  but  secretely  resolved  to  act 
upon  her  advice. 

A  few  days  later  an  opportunity  presented  itself, 
and  the  deed  was  done.  Bub,  the  brave,  the  hand- 
some, the  manly  was  accepted  with  tears  of  love  and 
gratitude. 

Bub  was  amazed. 

"  Don't  see  what  you're  cryin'  about,"  he  observed 
sheepishly. 

"Oh,  Bub,  I  am  so  ha-ha-happy!"  sobbed  Rose 
throwing  herself  upon  his  breast. 

Bub  swore  inwardly  and  wished  he  was  a  thousand 


48  LUCKY. 

miles  away;  Rose  was  a  nice  girl  and  was  going  to 
have  money,  but  why  need  she  make  such  a  fool  of 
herself? 

"  Kiss  me,"  gasped  the  sweet  tearful  bride- elect 
clinging  to  him  with  moist  red  lips  upturned. 

"Lord,  what  next?"  was  the  inward  comment  of 
the  lover  who  stood  awkwardly,  hands  in  pockets, 
looking  down  upon  her,  but  never  offering  to  bestow 
the  longed  for  caress. 

"Bub,  Bub,"  she  pleaded  frantically,  "why  don't 
you  kiss  me  ?  Engaged  folks  always  kiss. ' ' 

"The  deuce,  they  do!"  muttered  Bub  under  his 
breath;  but  what  could  he  do?  Rose  hung  upon  his 
neck,  her  lips  were  within  an  inch  of  his,  and  her  eyes 
were  full  of  mingled  beseeching  and  perplexity. 

Bub  struggled  with  himself  a  moment,  then  resolved 
that  since  it  must  be  done,  it  would  be  better  to  have 
it  over  as  soon  as  possible,  and  stooping  gingerly  to 
the  pleading  lips,  he  kissed  them,  resuming  his  former 
position  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  done  his  duty 
and  found  it  not  so  bad  after  all. 

Yes,  Rose  was  a  nice  little  girl.  He  felt  quite  satis- 
fied with  himself  and  her,  and  actually  gave  her  plump 
little  hand  an  approving  squeeze,  to  which  she  re- 
sponded with  smiles  and  tears  commingled,  nestling 
close  to  his  side  meanwhile,  and  hiding  her  blushes  in 
his  waist  coat. 

But  what  have  philosophers  said  about  the  course  of 
true  love  ?  Theirs  did  not  run  more  smoothly  than  the 
rest.  Mr.  Dolby  was  willing  to  neighbor  with  ths 


BUB   AND   ROSE.  49 

Roysters,  buy  of  them,  sell  to  them,  be  civil  to  them 
at  all  times,  but  when  it  came  to  a  question  of  family 
alliance,  he  firmly  drew  the  line.  Rose  should  never 
marry  Bub  with  his  consent.  He  had  no  use  for  the 
fellow. 

Mr.  Dolby  was  a  good  father,  and  Rose  was  a  dutiful 
daughter;  so  she  informed  her  betrothed  that  they  must 
wait. 

"Try  to  show  him  your  worth,  Bub,"  was  her 
womanly  advice. 

"He  won't  give  in,"  was  Bub's  reply.  "We'll 
have  to  wait  till  he  dies,  and  he's  liable  to  outlive  us 
both." 

"Then,  we  won't  be  married  at  all,"  said  Rose  with 
dignity.  "  I  must  mind  my  father." 

Strangely  enough  Bub  did  not  become  angry  at  the 
firm  stand  Rose  had  taken.  Now  that  she  stood  a 
little  beyond  his  reach,  he  began  to  prize  her  more, 
and  resolved  to  wait  for  her,  come  what  might.  This 
resolution  was  probably  the  noblest  sentiment  that  had 
ever  stirred  his  heart.  It  was  Bub's  first  step  towards 
real  manhood. 


A  strange  thing  had  occurred.  Mrs.  Royster  had 
seen  a  ghost.  The  appearance,  she  said,  was  that  of 
a  man,  dressed  in  black  broadcloth,  riding  in  a  phaeton, 
drawn  by  a  white  horse.  Had  it  simply  passed  and 
gone  on  its  way,  she  would  not  have  thought  it  odd  in 
the  least,  but  she  saw  it  driving  by  again  and  again, 
with  its  eyes  fixed  intentely  on  the  house. 


5O  LUCKY. 

Many  were  the  conjectures  concerning  the  mysterious 
occupant  of  the  phaeton.  The  farm  hands  were  of  the 
opinion  that  Mrs.  Royster  had  doubled  the  strength  of 
her  habitual  nightcap,  and  Lucky  Fielding  was  heard 
to  remark  irreverently  that  any  ghost  who  would  hang 
around  the  Royster  premises,  when  he  might  be 
haunting  a  better  place  with  very  little  inconvenience 
to  himself,  showed  pretty  poor  taste,  and  was  not 
deserving  of  an  honest  man's  faith. 

But  ghost  or  not,  the  next  evening,  Mr.  Royster  lay 
on  a  bed  of  sickness,  suddenly  and  mysteriously  stricken 
down.  The  doctor  was  summoned,  but  came  too  late. 

* '  Mother— Bub, ' '  gasped  the  dying  man.  ' '  Mother 
— Bub — I'm  goin' — F-mgoin'  shore.  I've  been  a  bad 
man,  but  I  want  you  to  do  better.  I  want  you  to 
make  it  all  right  with  little  Nane." 

With  these  words,  he  died.  The  doctor  took  his 
fingers  from  the  still  pulse,  named  the  disease  to 
eager  ihquirers,  and  went  home.  Those  who  looked, 
declared  afterwards  that  he  rode  in  a  phaeton  and  drove 
a  white  horse.  This  explained  to  their  minds  quite 
satisfactorily  the  mystery  of  the  ghost,  and  every  one 
was  frowned  down  who  dared  suggest  that  it  only 
"  happened  so." 


CHAPTER  V. 
AFTER  FOUR  YEARS. 

"LJULLO,  Captain!" 

11  The  man  who  spoke  was  tall  and  brawny, 
with  a  sharp,  though  not  unkindly  eye.  He  was 
bending  over  a  rude  fire  by  the  roadside,  and  the  light 
fell  upon  his  shaggy,  unkempt  hair  and  rough, 
travel-stained  garments,  revealing  a  story  that  one  could 
read  at  a  glance.  His  lot,  notwithstanding  his  rollicking 
songs  about  the  freedom  and  joy  of  a  teamster's  life, 
was  not  one  of  mild  sunshine.  Scorching  heat,  dust 
storms,  rains,  long  prayed  for  and  cursed  for  coming, 
had  for  many  years  had  their  way  with  this  broad 
shouldered,  burly  king  of  the  road.  The  voice  of  the 
man  was  in  keeping  with  his  appearance,  deep,  vital, 
and  with  a  ring  of  good  fellowship  in  it  that  Lund  could 
not  resist. 

"  Hullo,  Captain  !     What  do  you  know  ?" 

It  was  the  time-honored  greeting  of  the  teamster. 
Lund  responded  half-heartedly,  as  he  pulled  his 
sombrero  further  over  his  eyes,  and  sat  down  upon  the 
grass.  He  had  grown  to  be  a  tall  young  man.  His 
limbs  were  lank  and  bony,  and  a  deep  shade  of 
melancholy  had  settled  upon  his  face. 

The  teamster  placed  a  soot- covered  coffee-pot  over 
the  fire,  then  turned  to  fish  out  from  a  conglomeration 


52  LUCKY. 

of  traps,  a  small  griddle  which  soon  took  its  place 
beside  the  coffee-pot. 

1 '  Get  out,  Shep  !' '  he  cried  to  the  dog  at  his  heels, 
which  was  sniffing  at  a  basin  of  pancake  batter  standing 
on  the  ground.  * '  Get  out,  I  say  !  Here,  stranger, 
come  closer  to  the  light.  I  want  to  look  at  you. 
What  do  you  know,  anyway  ?  Give  us  the  news. ' ' 

Lund  dragged  his  awkward  body  forward  in  a 
spiritless  manner,  and  seated  himself  anew.  His 
attitude  was  one  of  utter  despondence.  He  sat  very 
still,  watching  with  dull  interest  his  new  acquaintance 
spreading  pancake  batter  over  the  smoking  hot  griddle. 

Far  off  on  either  side  stretched  the  rolling  prairie, 
the  lonely  monotony  of  which  was  unrelieved  except 
by  here  and  there  a  grove  of  cottonwood  trees,  marking 
the  location  of  some  farm  house,  or  a  clump  of  alders 
surrounding  an  isolated  pool.  The  teamster's  fire 
flickered  dimly  in  the  twilight.  The  great,  black 
snake-like  road  wound  away  and  away  to  the  west ; 
the  wagon  stood  beside  it  with  the  ox  yoke  leaning 
against  the  side,  and  the  oxen  grazing  hard  by.  It 
was  a  rudely  romantic  picture. 

The  low  wailing  cry  of  a  whip-poor-will  broke  the 
silence. 

"  Confound  the  bird  !"  the  teamster  exclaimed.  "  I 
wish  it'd  have  the  decency  to  shut  up.  Makes  me  feel 
as  if  the  whole  world  had  turned  into  a  graveyard.  Is 
that  what  ails  you,  friend  ?' ' 

Lund  shook  his  head. 

"Then  what  is  it?     Something's  up.     Here  you, 


AFTER   FOUR   YEARS.  53 

Shep,  you  ugly  man's  cur,  keep  your  nose  away 
from  them  flippers.  You'd  better  tell  me.  I've  helped 
many  a  better  and  many  a  worse  man,  I  dare  say,  out 
of  the  dumps." 

Lund  leaned  his  head  on  his  hands  and  the  tears 
rolled  down  through  his  gaunt  fingers.  He  was 
ashamed  to  shed  them,  but  they  must  come. 

' '  See  here,  now, ' '  said  the  teamster  kindly,  '  *  you 
are  in  a  peck  o'  trouble,  and  I  know'd  it  as  soon  as  I 
set  eyes  on  you.  But  if  you  won't  tell  a  feller,  what 
can  a  feller  do  ?  Is  it  a  girl?" 

Lund  gave  his  head  another  negative  twist. 

14  Is  it  money?" 

The  same  response. 

"Well,  then,  I  swear  I  can't  guess.  You  don't  look 
old  enough  to  have  a  mother-in-law." 

This  was  said  with  so  comic  a  quirk  of  the  lips,  that 
Lund's  gravity  gave  way,  and  he  laughed  aloud. 

''That's  right!  That's  what  I  like  to  hear!  It 
sounds  as  if  there  was  hopes  of  heaven  for  you  in  the 
long  run,"  said  the  teamster.  "Go  ahead.  I'm  a 
listenin'." 

Thus  enticed  out  of  his  reticent  mood,  Lund  opened 
his  heart  to  his  newly  found  friend.  He  told  how  he 
had  that  morning  been  derided  by  Bub  Royster,  who 
was  out  of  humor  and  spoiling  for  a  fuss,  and  how 
finally,  because  he  would  not  reply  to  the  taunts  of  his 
tormentor,  he  had  been  knocked  down  with  a  pitch- 
fork handle,  and  after  that,  had  not  gone  near  the 
house,  but  had  wandered  about  over  the  prairie,  trying 


54  LUCKY. 

to  think  what  was  best  to  do.  He  did  not  wish  to 
return,  not  because  of  fear  but  because  he  disliked  liv- 
ing in  continual  contention. 

'  *  By  the  old  Harry ! ' '  swore  the  teamster  mildly, 
' '  I  never  heard  of  such  a  heathen  this  side  of  Idaho, 
or  th'  other  side  neither.  Look  here,  my  boy, ' '  slap- 
ping Lund's  ragged  knee,  "  don't  you  be  down  in  the 
mouth.  I'll  take  you  to  Omaha  with  me,  and  get  you 
the  best  job  o'  teamin'  that's  goin'.  My  wife' 11  be  a 
sister  to  you.  She'll  wash  and  patch  your  clothes  and 
do  it  cheerfully,  sir.  Here's  the  chance  of  your  life. 
Only  say  the  word,  and  it's  a  go." 

"I'll  think  about  it,  and  tell  you  in  the  morning," 
said  Lund. 

The  teamster's  supper  was  shared  with  his  visitor, 
and  after  it  was  eaten,  the  man  said: 

"Well,  you'd  better  bunk  with  me  to-night.  I'm 
glad  of  your  company.  Company  is  a  powerful  anec- 
dote for  the  blues.  Now  I'll  make  the  bed,  and  we'll 
turn  in,  for  I'm  as  tired  as  a  nigger." 

The  bed  was  not  much  to  make.  There  were  only 
a  few  blankets  to  spread  out  on  the  ground  under  the 
wagon.  The  two  retired,  and  the  teamster  was  soon 
asleep;  but  the  young  man  at  his  side  lay  awake,  watch- 
ing the  smouldering  coals  of  the  dying  fire,  the  great, 
white  moon,  sailing  along  in  the  sky,  and  the  shadows 
that  rested  under  the  little  hills.  The  wide  expanse  of 
silent  prairie  spoke  to  his  heart,  telling  him  a  story 
which  he,  rough  and  unlearned  as  he  was,  could  not 
have  embodied  in  words.  It  was  his.  It  had  been  his 


AFTER  FOUR  YEARS.  55 

throughout  all  his  previous  life.  Others  might  hold 
the  right  and  title  to  those  hills  and  ravines,  but  there 
was  something  in  them  which  no  one  could  take  from 
him,  as  long  as  he  chose  to  retain  it.  He  did  not  know 
what  it  was  but  he  felt  its  power  within  him. 

How  he  loved  the  loneliness  and  grandeur!  How 
his  spirit  sank  when  he  thought  of  leaving  it  forever! 
Ginger,  the  pony  must  have  a  new  rider,  and  the  little 
spiked  horn  heifer  and  her  companions  must  find  a 
new  friend. 

The  grass  stirred  gently  about  his  bed,  the  dog 
snoozed  peacefully,  dreaming  of  rabbit  hunts,  with  now 
and  then  a  soft,  delighted  bark,  a  charred  stick  burned 
off  at  one  end,  and  fell  with  a  smothered  thud  into  the 
bed  of  gray  ashes,  and  the  oxen  sighed  loudly  in  their 
sleep. 

The  moon  sank  out  of  sight,  and  still  Lund  lay 
awake,  under  the  broad  blue  of  the  sky  with  the  little 
stars  looking  down  at  him,  thinking  of  the  new  life 
which  lay  ahead.  When  he  thought  of  freedom,  his 
heart  warmed ;  but  for  that  freedom  he  was  paying  a 
price. 

The  fire  went  out,  the  stars  paled,  and  it  grew  quite 
dark.  Yet  Lund  did  not  sleep.  He  was  still  thinking. 

Morning  came,  breakfast  was  over,  the  team  was 
hitched  to  the  wagon,  and  the  driver  mounted  on  his 
seat. 

' '  Are  you  comin'  ?  "  he  asked  turning  to  Lund. 

Lund  put  his  foot  on  the  wheel,  ready  to  mount.  A 
vague  light  shone  in  his  eyes.  It  was  the  light  of  new 


56  LUCKY. 

hope  mingled  with  a  deep  shadow  of  regret.  For  a 
moment  he  stood  irresolute;  then,  his  hand  dropped 
from  the  side-board  like  lead,  and  looking  wistfully  at 
the  teamster  he  spoke: 

"  I  want  to  go — the  Lord  only  knows  how  I  want  to 
go — but  I  cant  leave  Nane — little  Nane." 

"Well,  I'm  sorry,"  the  teamster  replied;  ''there 
was  the  makin'  of  a  man  in  you. ' ' 

But  he  had  no  time  to  argue  the  case.  He  cracked 
his  whip,  shouted  to  his  oxen,  and  the  wagon  began  to 
move,  the  dog  bounding  along  ahead. 

Lund  stood  and  looked  after  the  moving  team  until 
it  was  almost  out  of  sight.  There  was  a  great  lump 
in  his  throat,  and  the  ground  seemed  to  reel  beneath 
his  feet. 

The  wagon  had  reached  the  top  of  the  hill.  The 
driver  turning  round,  waved  his  hat  as  a  parting 
salute.  Lund  answered  with  a  feeble  gesture  of  the 
hand,  then  turned  sorrowfully  to  go  back  to  the  Roy- 
sters'  and  take  up  his  cross  again. 


"  Nana,  Nana!"  called  Mrs.  Royster  to  the  girl 
who  was  tripping  down  the  path,  which  led  to  the  north 
of  the  house,  and  was  already  several  yards  away. 
"  Nana,  where  are  you  goin',  child?  " 

' '  To  the  North  Pond  to  gather  sunflowers. ' ' 

"  Pshaw!     What  do  you  want  of  them  weeds?  " 

-I  like  them." 

* '  Well,  the  Dolbys  have  ju3t  brought  home  a  new 


AFTER  FOUR  YEARS.  57 

Texas  steer,  so  you'd  best  be  careful.       He  might  get 
away,"  warned  Mrs.  Royster." 

' '  I  am  not  afraid. " 

' '  So  it  seems  about  other  things  as  well  as  this.  But 
you'd  best  listen  to  them  that's  older  than  you.  In 
my  time,  young  folks  used  to  pay  some  attention  to 
their  elders,  but  it  'pears  that  time's  gone  past  —  with 
some  anyway." 

Nana  paid  little  heed  to  Mrs.  Royster' s  words  of 
complaint  as  she  no  longer  feared  the  woman.  She 
had  been  treated  more  kindly  since  the  death  of  Mr. 
Royster.  Either  his  dying  words  or  Joe  Slocum's 
threats  had  borne  fruit.  She  had  been  well  clothed 
and  fed  and  when  one  day,  she  announced  her  intent- 
ion of  starting  to  school  in  the  district  adjoining,  where 
Miss  Fielding  taught,  no  one  offered  to  oppose  her. 
She  was  now  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  competent  to 
take  charge  of  a  school  herself.  Miss  Fielding  had 
found  in  her  a  remarkable  pupil  especially  in  history 
and  literature.  She  was  beautiful  too,  as  well  as  bril- 
liant, but  she  was  not  vain.  Her  training  had  not  been 
conducive  to  vanity. 

Mrs.  Royster  stood  with  arms  akimbo,  her  eyes 
bent  upon  the  ground.  Suddenly,  she  raised  them, 
and  looking  into  Nana's  face,  said  in  a  confidential 
tone: 

"You  don't  expect  to  go  past  the  Fieldin's,  do 
you?" 

"Scarcely." 

"I  wouldn't,  Nana." 


58  LUCKY. 

' '  Why  ?     Have  they  some  wild  cattle,  too  ?' ' 

"  No,  but  I  wouldn't  let  my  head  run  upon  Lucky 
Fieldin',  if  I  was  you,  or  appear  to  be  lettin'  it  neither. 
He's  some  years  older  than  you,  though  he  does  act 
like  a  great  boy,  and  he'll  only  laugh  at  you  for  your 
pains.  Besides,  you  must  remember  that  though  you 
be  so  fine,  your  eddication  is  all  that  me  and  Bub  is 
like  ever  to  give  you,  as  Bub' 11  be  marryin'  one  of 
these  days,  and  will  want  what  he  has,  and  Lucky 
Fieldin'  is  not  the  man  to  take  up  with  a  penniless  girl. ' ' 

Nana  blushed,  as  Mrs.  Royster's  keen  eyes  searched 
her  face. 

"You  can't  trust  him,  neither,"  the  woman  went 
on.  ' '  I'  ve  heard  tell  that  he' s  a  reg' lar  jilt.  The  mail 
carrier  told  me,  and  some  one  told  it  to  him  as  a 
pos'tive  fact  that  two  summers  ago,  when  he  went 
East,  he  met  a  girl  that  he  made  love  to  with  all  his 
might,  and  then  left  her,  and  she  felt  so  bad  about  it 
that  in  a  month  or  so  after,  she  died.  The  mail  carrier 
says  that  the  woman  who  told  him  knew  a  woman  who 
was  a  great  friend  of  the  girl's." 

Mrs.  Royster  watched  Nana  out  of  sight,  with  some- 
thing like  a  smile  hovering  about  her  thin  lips.  She 
felt  that  her  arrow  had  struck  home,  though  the  girl 
had  given  no  sign. 

Nana  and  Lucky  since  their  first  meeting  had  been 
firm  friends.  He  had  read  to  her,  and  had  told  her  of 
that  land  of  dreams  lying  beyond  the  line  of  hills  which 
hid  it  from  her  vision,  the  great  world  where  men  were 
so  brave  and  gallant,  and  women  so  bright  and  beautiful. 


AFTER  FOUR  YEARS.  59 

He  had  made  her  long  for  that  world,  and  sometimes 
there  had  crept  into  her  heart  along  with  other  dreams, 
the  desire  that  he  might  one  day  take  her  there.  Of 
late  the  wish  had  occurred  more  frequently,  for  at  times, 
Mrs.  Royster  with  her  nagging,  and  Bub  with  his 
rough  ways  and  uncouth  manner,  nearly  drove  her  to 
distraction.  It  was  but  natural  that  she  should  think 
of  Lucky.  He  always  joined  her  in  her  walks  when 
his  work  permitted,  and  that  was  often.  He  always 
talked  of  the  things  she  cared  for,  and  his  ways  were 
so  different  from  those  of  the  Roysters.  Now,  the 
word?  of  the  woman  rankled  in  her  mind.  Was  Lucky 
a  jilt  ?  Was  he  amusing  himself  with  her,  thinking 
easily  to  gain  her  love  for  the  mere  pastime  of  it  ?  At 
any  rate  he  should  see  that  it  was  not  so  easy  a  matter 
to  do.  With  this  resolution  firm  in  her  heart  she  walked 
along  that  bright  summer  morning  till  she  had  reached 
the  North  Pond,  where  the  tall  sunflowers  tossed  their 
haloed  faces  in  thick  profusion. 

Instead  of  gathering  her  lap  full,  as  had  been  her 
intention,  she  sat  down  in  the  shade  to  think.  How 
would  it  be  best  to  treat  Lucky  Fielding  when  next 
they  met  ?  She  had  not  been  sitting  there  long,  when 
she  heard  a  low  fierce  bellow  not  far  away.  ' '  The 
Dolby's  steer,"  was  her  first  thought,  and  looking  up, 
she  saw  tearing  down  the  hill,  a  great  angry  creature, 
with  wide  spreading  horns,  which  he  dug  into  the  earth 
as  he  bounded  on,  snorting  menacingly. 

He  had  seen  her — flight  would  be  worse  than 
useless.  She  crouched  down  among  the  sunflowers  to 


60  LUCKY. 

await  her  doom.  He  was  upon  her  now  ;  his  horns 
touched  the  ground  not  a  foot  from  where  she  sat,  and 
his  great  red  eyes  looked  into  hers.  She  sat  so  still 
that  the  animal  seemed  perplexed,  and  offered  no 
further  demonstrations,  but  stood  with  horns  still 
lowered,  watching  her.  Nana  felt  that  it  was  only  a 
question  of  a  few  moments,  nevertheless;  she  began  to 
repeat  her  prayers  mechanically,  as  she  had  learned  to 
do  when  a  child,  from  an  evangelist  who  had  held  a 
revival  meeting  in  the  school  house. 

Presently  a  rider  appeared  on  the  brow  of  the 
hill,  spurring  his  horse  to  its  utmost  speed.  It  was 
Lucky  Fielding,  and  he  carried  a  pitchfork  in  his 
hand.  He  was  soon  to  the  rescue.  The  steer  was 
driven  off,  and  he  stood  by  her  side  holding  her  cold 
hands. 

' '  My  eye  !  but  you  are  a  plucky  one  !  Why  didn'  t 
you  screech  out  and  get  killed  ?' ' 

Nana  drew  her  hands  away  and  laughed  carelessly. 
Lucky  glanced  at  her  with  a  disapproving  look. 

"You  can  laugh,  can  you,  when  you've  just  come 
back  from  death's  very  door  ?" 

Nana  scarcely  opened  her  lips  in  reply  ;  her  words 
were  cold,  and  only  half  audible. 

' '  I  knew  the  beast  had  strayed, ' '  Lucky  went  on. 
' '  I  was  working  in  the  field  when  Rose  came  running 
to  me  with  the  news.  I  thought  of  you  in  a  minute, 
you  are  out  on  the  hills  so  much,  and  it  did  not  take 
me  long,  I  tell  you,  to  unhitch  and  mount  Firefly.  I 
left  the  other  horse  in  the  field,  but  he'll  stand.  I'll 
take  you  home  now." 


AFTER  FOUR  YEARS.  6l 

"I'm  not  at  all  afraid.     I  can  go  alone." 

"  And  run  the  risk  of  meeting  Sir  Texas  again  ?" 

"  He  went  another  direction." 

"Then,  you  don't  want  my  company  ?" 

"Just  as  you  please." 

"  Well,  I  please  to  go,  for  there's  no  telling  whether 
you'll  be  safe  or  not.  Then  I  will  ride  after  the  old 
fellow  and  see  that  he's  put  up." 

They  walked  along  silently.  Lucky  began  to  be 
nettled  by  Nana's  cool  demeanor.  He  cared  for  the 
girl,  having  for  some  time  looked  upon  her  as  his  own, 
and  thought  she  understood  it. 

"Playing  the  high  and  mighty,  hey?"  he  said  to 
himself,  as  he  saw  at  length  that  Nana  was  not  at  all 
disposed  to  converse.  "Well,  I'll  have  my  game  too. 
I  promised  sis  not  to  lie  any  more,  but  this  once  I 
cannot  resist.  Let  me  see,  what  shall  I  say?" 

Lucky  thought  a  moment,  then  began. 

"  I  say,  Nana,  I've  something  to  tell  you.  You've 
always  been  a  good  little  sister  to  me,  and  I  feel  that  I 
can  come  to  you  with  all  my  plans,  and  receive  sympathy 
and  advice.  I've  been  thinking  for  a  long  time  about 
getting  married.  Don't  laugh.  Every  young  man 
thinks  of  such  things.  You'  11  promise  you  won' t  laugh 
if  I  tell  you  a  secret?" 

Nana  promised,  with  the  same  coolness  of  manner. 

"Well,  to  make  short  work  of  it,  you  know  that 
there  are  no  marriageable  young  ladies  about  here  ex- 
cept Rose  Dolby,  and  she  persists  in  becoming  an  old 
maid  for  the  sake  of  his  lordship,  Bub  Royster.  You, 


62  LUCKY. 

Nana,  are  as  yet  only  a  child,  and  besides,  I  have 
always  looked  upon  you  as  a  sister.  Well,  I've 
made  up  my  mind  to  start  to-morrow  for  the  Upper 
Missouri,  partly  to  shoot  teal  and  partly  to  get  myself 
a  wife.  I  hear  that  a  lot  of  girls  have  lately 
arrived  at  Dannerborg,  near  the  rapids,  and  the  fellows 
are  flocking  there  from  all  sections.  I  think  I'll  go 
and  see  if  any  of  'em  suit  my  fancy.  Romantic — hey 
sis?" 

The  falsehood  was  told  calmly,  soberly,  as  only 
Lucky  Fielding  could  tell  it. 

"  I  wish  you  good  luck,"  Nana  answered  in  a  voice 
not  altogether  free  from  sarcasm.  ' '  Shall  you  take  time 
to  court  her,  or  just  pick  her  out  and  marry  her  off 
hand?" 

1  *  Oh  I  shall  follow  the  prevailing  fashion  whatever 
that  may  be,"  Lucky  responded.  Then  he  bade  her 
good-bye  for  they  had  reached  Royster's  boundary 
line  over  which  the  Fieldings  seldom  deigned  to  step. 

Mrs.  Royster  met  Nana  as  she  came  wearily  up  the 
path  to  the  house.  She  noted  the  girl's  tired  eyes 
and  languid  walk. 

"  Where  are  your  sunflowers  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  did  not  think  of  them,"  Nana  returned.  "  I 
have  just  escaped  being  killed  by  Dolby's  Texas 
steer." 

"Law  sakes!  You  don't  say!  How  did  it  hap- 
pen?" 

Nana  told  the  story. 

' '  Lucky   Fieldin'    drove   him   away !  ' '     exclaimed 


AFTER  FOUR  YEARS.  63 

Mrs.  Royster  in  consteration.  "Well,  I  s'pose  you'll 
be  a  marryin'  him  the  next  thing,  won' t  you  ?  ' ' 

"No,"  Nana  answered,  "I  shall  never  marry 
Lucky  Fielding." 

Mrs.  Royster' s  countenance  changed  in  an  instant. 

"Well,"  she  said  in  a  conciliatory  voice,  "Bub 
calculates  goin'  to  L  this  week,  with  a  load  of  cheese, 
and  he  spoke  of  takin'  Rose  and  you  along,  and  he 
says  as  you  have  been  a  likely  girl,  I'd  best  give  you 
a  little  money  to  spend  while  you're  there."  With 
this,  Mrs.  Royster  put  a  twenty-dollar  bill  into  Nana's 
hand. 

' '  I  want  you  to  get  yourself  a  new  checkered  de- 
lain,  and  a  pair  of  pretty  slippers  with  shiny  buckles 
like  the  mail  carrier's  wife  had  on  the  day  she  rode 
here  with  him,  and  a  new  hat,  and  some  pocket  hand- 
kechers,  and  any  other  little  thing  you  may  want. ' ' 

Mrs.  Royster  went  into  the  house,  and  Nana  stood 
staring  after  her,  wondering  at  such  benevolence. 

It  was  very  strange. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
IN  THE  CITY. 

NANA  went  with  the  load  of  cheese  to  L,  Rose 
Dolby  accompanying  her.  They  started  a  lit- 
tle after  midnight,  that  they  might  reach  the  city 
before  the  day  grew  hot.  Joe  Slocum,  wishing  to 
make  a  few  purchases  in  shape  of  furniture  for  his 
house,  went  along,  as  well  as  Lund  who  drove  the 
team. 

As  the  way  was  very  dark,  a  small  lantern  was 
swung  at  the  head  of  either  horse;  Bub  slept  with  his 
head  on  Rose  Dolby's  lap,  Rose  and  Slocum  dozed, 
while  Nana  sat  wide  awake,  her  back  braced  against  a 
pile  of  cheese  boxes.  The  wagon  rattled  dismally 
along,  and  the  dreary,  continuous  tramp  of  the  horses' 
feet  filled  her  with  intense  loneliness.  She  wished 
that  Lund  would  speak  to  her,  or  even  turn  his  head, 
but  he  sat  stiff  and  solemn  in  his  seat,  giving  his  atten- 
tion to  the  road  in  front,  over  which  the  two  lanterns 
shed  a  pale  light.  She  was  tempted  to  speak  to  him  ; 
but  no,  it  would  do  no  good.  She  could  not  tell  him 
her  secret.  She  must  bear  her  loss  and  disappoint- 
ment alone.  But  it  made  her  more  lonely  to  see  him, 
her  only  friend,  sitting  there  with  his  back  to  her,  his 
slouch  hat  pulled  over  his  eyes,  intent  upon  his  work, 
and  she  believed,  with  no  thought  beyond  it.  Thus 


IN   THE   CITY.  65 

she  sat  meditating  until  many  miles  lay  between  her 
and  the  Royster  farm. 

Joe  Slocum  woke,  and  looked  towards  the  east. 

"  Day  is  breakin',"  he  remarked. 

1 '  How  far  are  we  from  L  ?  "   Nana  inquired. 

' '  Near  fifteen  miles  yet.  Are  you  happy,  little 
'un?" 

"As  much  as  usual,  thank  you,"  was  the  dry  re- 
sponse. 

' '  Do  you  know  what  you'  re  goin'  to  L  for  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  see  the  city.     I've  never  seen  a  city." 

11  You  are  goin'  for  sometin'  more  than  that." 

"What  for?" 

"To  buy  your  weddin'  clothes." 

"  Nonsense.     I  am  not  going  to  be  married." 

"  Yes,  you  air." 

4 '  How  do  you  know  ?  ' ' 

"  Mis'  Royster  and  me  have  calc'lated  on  it." 

Nana's  heart  stood  still.  Nothing  had  ever  been 
said  of  her  marriage  with  Joe  since  the  day  she  and 
Lund  had  talked  it  over  on  the  prairie,  the  day 
she  had  first  met  Lucky  Fielding,  and  gradually  the 
fear  of  it  had  slipped  from  her  mind,  as  impending 
calamities  that  have  done  no  more  than  threaten,  are 
wont  to  do.  But  here  it  was  confronting  her  again. 
She  controlled  herself  until  she  was  able  to  inquire 
with  calmness. 

' '  What  do  you  mean  ?  ' ' 

' '  That  you  air  a  goin'  to  marry  me  next  comin* 
Wednesday.  We'll  invite  some  people,  and  have  a 


66  LUCKY. 

shake-down  at  the  Roysters'  to  celebrate.  You  can 
dance  the  Diner  Polka  then  to  your  heart's  content. 
I'll  have  the  fiddlers  up  from  Elk  Bend.  I  know  you 
be  fond  o'  dancin'." 

"And  I  have  nothing  to  say  about  this,  I  pre- 
sume. ' ' 

"Why,  we  cal' elated  you  should  be  suited.  No 
expense  will  be  spared  for  the  jubilee.  You  needn't 
worry  your  head,  little  'un.  You'll  have  nothing  to 
find  fault  with." 

1  *  I  do  not  mean  that.  I  mean  that  I  think  you 
and  Mrs.  Royster  ought  to  have  asked  my  consent  to 
this  arrangement  which  seems  to  be  a  settled  matter 
between  me  and  you." 

"  Why  ?     Don't  you  want  to  get  married,  gal  ?  " 

"No." 

"Why?  Ain't  I  always  been  good  to  you  and 
saved  you  from  lots  o'  trouble  ?  Ain'  t  it  I  that  saw 
to  your  bein'  eddicated  ?  Ain' t — ' ' 

"Oh  yes,  Joe,  and  for  that  I  am  grateful.  But 
gratitude  is  not  love." 

' '  Can' t  you  love  me  a  bit,  my  pretty,  if  you  try  real 
hard?" 

' '  No,  Joe.  I  am  sorry,  but  I  never  can.  You  are 
a  man,  Joe.  You'll  let  me  alone  and  not  plague  me 
any  more  about  it." 

"  Sorry,  little  'un,  but  I  can't  let  you  alone.  I've 
counted  on  it,  year  after  year,  and  waited,  always 
a-thinkin' of  the  happy  days  a-comin'.  I've  clinched 
the  bargain  with  the  Roysters,  and  am  a-furnishin' 


IN   THE   CITY.  67 

my  house  now.  Business  is  business,  and  love  is 
another  thing.  Lettin'  love  alone,  I've  done  without 
a  housekeeper  five  years,  waitin'  for  you,  and  now, 
you  mustn't  go  back  on  me.  You'll  have  no  hard 
times,  little  'un.  You'll  not  find  me  a  bad  man." 

Nana  saw  that  words  from  her  on  the  subject  would 
be  wasted,  so  sighed  and  kept  silent.  But  her  thoughts 
were  busy  the  remaining  fifteen  miles  of  her  ride,  and 
before  they  reached  L.  she  had  made  up  her  mind 
what  to  do. 


The  long,  tiresome  day  in  the  hot  streets  of  the  city 
finally  came  to  an  end,  and  the  two  girls  were  closeted 
in  a  little  box  of  a  room,  under  the  roof  of  a  small 
Dutch  hotel,  while  the  men  slept  in  the  wagon  on  the 
haymarket  square,  to  guard  the  produce  yet  unsold, 
and  save  the  price  of  lodging. 

The  room  was  dingy  and  cheerless,  and  a  smell  of 
onions  pervaded  the  air.  Rose  let  down  her  long  hair, 
and  looked  at  Nana,  who  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
nursing  her  knees  in  her  slender  arms. 

"  Isn't  this  glorious  !"  cried  the  former  young  lady. 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  see  the  glory  of  it,"  Nana 
answered. 

4 '  Why,  we  are  sleeping  all  alone  in  a  hotel  for  the 
first  time  in  our  lives." 

'  *  And  if  this  is  a  fair  sample  of  hotels,  I  hope  it  will 
be  the  last." 

''Haven't  you  enioyed  yourself  to-day,  dear?" 

"No." 


68  LUCKY. 

''What!  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  don't  enjoy 
looking  at  pretty  things?  Why,  I  should  be  crazy 
with  joy  if  I  could  buy  such  things  as  dear  Mrs. 
Royster  is  giving  you.  That  delaine  of  yours  is 
just  grand  !  It  is  pretty  enough  for  a  wedcttng dress." 

"  It  is  for  my  wedding  dress,  Rose." 

Rose  looked  at  her  a  moment  with  beaming  eyes, 
then  throwing  her  arms  round  Nana's  neck  cried  out 
joyfully  : 

' '  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  !  Who  is  it,  dear  ?  Lucky 
Fielding?" 

'  *  No.  Lucky  Fielding  has  gone  away  to  the  Upper 
Missouri  to  shoot  teal  and  get  himself  a  wife. ' ' 

Rose  gave  a  little  gasp  of  surprise,  and  took  her 
arms  away. 

"I  can't  think  who  it  is,  then,"  she  said,  knitting 
her  brows  in  perplexity. 

"The  last  person  you'd  guess  in  the  world,"  said 
Nana,  looking  at  her  so  intently  that  Rose  sprang  up 
with  a  little  scream. 

"  Goodness  gracious  !     Not  my  Bub?" 

' '  Not  so  bad  as  that, ' '  said  Nana,  smiling  grimly. 
"  You  want  to  know  who  it  is,  do  you  ?  Well,  its  no 
other  than  Joe  Slocum. ' ' 

Rose's  eyes  widened  till  they  looked  like  great,  blue 
saucers. 

"You  don't  say  so  !" 

"  Yes,  he's  the  Roysters'  choice,  not  mine.  What 
do  you  think  of  him  ?" 

"Well,"  said  Rose  consolingly,  "he'll  be  a  good 


IN   THE   CITY.  69 

provider,  and  you'll  get  used  to  him  after  a  while." 

Nana  laughed  a  quiet  laugh  of  superiority,  which 
nettled  Rose,  though  she  did  not  understand  exactly 
what  it  meant. 

"  Oh,  I  know  he  isn't  a  bit  like  Bub,"  Rose  said. 

"  No,  thank  heaven  for  that." 

"  You  musn't  speak  so  to  me  !" 

' '  Why,  musn't  I  defend  my  bridegroom  ?  I  thought 
you  were  more  reasonable.  Bub  is  very  fond  of  you, 
Rose,  and  you  are  a  good  woman.  I  hope  you'll  make 
a  man  of  him." 

' '  I  know  you  don' t  like  Bub.  You  misunderstand 
him.  So  do  pa  and  ma.  Now,  I  understand  him 
perfectly,  and  know  how  good  he  is  at  heart,"  rejoined 
Rose  earnestly. 

The  girls  said  no  more,  but  went  to  bed.  Innocent 
Rose  soon  slept  the  sleep  of  the  tired  and  happy.  Not 
so  her  companion.  For  her,  the  long  hours  of  the 
night  dragged  slowly  by.  Her  heart  and  head  were 
both  heavy  with  weariness  and  anxiety,  but  she  dared 
not  close  her  eyes,  lest  she  should  oversleep.  When 
the  clock  in  the  town  hall  struck  four,  she  arose  and 
dressed  herself  quietly,  that  she  might  not  awaken 
Rose.  Her  hasty  toilet  made,  she  lifted  the  latch, 
hurried  down  the  rickety  stair,  unbolted  the  street 
door,  and  stepped  out  into  the  misty  gray  of  the 
morning. 

She  passed  the  wagon  in  the  hay  market  where  her 
associates  slept,  and  hastened  on  through  the  unfamiliar 
streets.  Her  object  was  to  lose  herself  from  her 


70  LUCKY. 

companions  till  it  should  be  safe  to  do  more.  When 
the  sun  came  up,  she  was  far  away  from  the  little 
Dutch  hotel. 

She  had  reached  the  suburbs  of  the  city.  Perceiv- 
ing a  great  building,  evidently  a  church,  with  a  wide 
portico,  she  conceived  the  idea  of  sheltering  herself  be- 
neath it  for  a  time,  that  she  might  rest.  To  her  surprise 
and  delight,  she  found  the  door  ajar,  and  into  the  quiet 
vestibule  she  crept  with  a  sweet  sense  of  safety  and 
protection,  as  if  God  had  opened  His  arms  to  her  in  her 
hour  of  trouble.  Tired  out  from  the  long  walk,  she 
lay  down  on  one  of  the  cushioned  pews,  and  fell  asleep. 

Some  hours  after,  she  was  awakened  by  a  gentle 
touch  on  her  forehead.  Opening  her  eyes,  she  saw 
bending  over  her,  a  silver-haired  old  man,  dressed  in 
long,  black  robes.  The  tenderness  of  his  voice  and  eye 
inspired  her  at  once  with  implicit  confidence. 

"  Well,  my  stray  lamb  ?"  was  his  greeting. 

' '  I  was  tired  and  came  in  here  to  rest, ' '  Nana 
explained  apologetically. 

' (  Ah  yes,  ah  yes.  May  God  bless  you.  There  is 
no  better  rest  than  that  which  is  found  in  the  house  of 
the  Lord.  You  have  found  out  the  true  secret  of  life, 
my  child.  You  have  flown  for  your  rest  to  the  feet  of 
the  Lord." 

He  waited  for  an  answer,  but  receiving  none  he  con- 
tinued, 

( '  You  have  come  a  long  way.  Your  shoes  and 
dress  are  dusty.  May  I  know  your  errand  in  these 
parts?" 


IN   THE   CITY.  71 

"It  may  not  be  in  these  parts,"  Nana  answered. 
"I  am  looking  for  Dr.  Eustace,  the  wealthy  gentle- 
man, who  does  so  much  charitable  work." 

"Dr.  Eustace— Dr.  Eustace,"  mused  the  priest. 
"The  name  is  not  familiar  to  me.  Do  you  know  the 
street  and  number  ?  If  not,  we  must  look  for  it  in  a 
directory. ' ' 

Nana  knew  the  street  and  number.  She  knew  the 
story  on  the  paper  she  had  treasured  to  that  day,  by 
head  and  heart.  Only  her  love  for  Lucky  had  kept 
her  from  writing  to  the  good  and  wealthy  man,  asking 
him  to  do  something  toward  her  education.  Lucky 
and  Lucky  only  had  held  her  to  the  dairy  farm.  Now 
that  he  was  gone,  there  was  no  use  in  trying  to  remain, 
even  if  the  Roysters  did  not  intend  to  compel  her  to 
marry  Joe  Slocum. 

"  The  address  is  No.  7  M  Street,"  said  Nana. 

"  Ah  yes.  That  will  not  be  difficult  to  find.  I  will 
send  one  to  guide  you  by  and  by.  In  the  meantime, 
come  to  my  house,  which  is  near  at  hand,  and  recejve 
the  material  food  that  we  as  agents  of  the  Lord  are 
commanded  to  administer  as  well  as  spiritual  nourish- 
ment. You  shall  be  waited  upon  by  my  niece,  a  good 
lady,  who  likes  little  girls." 

With  these  words,  he  took  her  by  the  hand,  and 
led  her  as  he  would  a  child,  into  the  parsonage. 

Later  in  the  day,  she  stood  at  the  door  of  No  7  M 
Street,  and  knocked.  The  house  was  not  a  prepossess- 
ing structure  nor  was  it  in  a  very  handsome  quarter. 
Nana  thought  at  first  that  she  must  have  made  a  mis- 


72  LUCKY. 

take;  but  no,  there  was  the  number  above  the  door. 
Then  she  reflected  that  the  benevolent  gentleman  who 
lived  to  do  good  to  others  probably  gave  away  so 
much  that  he  had  little  for  himself.  The  shutters 
rattled  dismally  in  the  wind  as  she  stood  waiting.  No 
one  came  to  the  door.  She  knocked  again. 

There  was  a  shuffling  of  slipshod  feet  within,  and  a 
grumbling  voice  was  saying  something  about  folks 
who  didn't  know  enough  to  ring  the  bell,  after  which 
the  door  opened,  and  the  shocky  head  of  an  Irish 
woman  was  poked  out. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Dr.  Eustace,"  Nana  faltered.  "  Is 
this  his  house,  and  is  he  in  ?" 

"Och!  Now,  I  guess  you  be  afther  manin'  me 
b'  y,  Stacy.  Come  in.  What  be  ailin'  ye,  my  pretty?  ' ' 

' '  Nothing.  I  wanted  to  see  the  doctor, ' '  said  Nana 
with  sinking  heart. 

The  Irish  woman  led  her  into  a  disorderly  room, 
and  opening  a  stair  door  at  the  left,  called  hoarsely, 

"Stacy!     Stacy!" 

There  was  no  response. 

' '  Stacy,  ye  dumb  lune,  be  after  stirrin'  your  stumps. 
There's  a  lady  here  to  see  ye  and  very  ill  she  is." 

There  was  a  scuffing  of  feet  above,  and  soon  some 
one  began  to  descend  the  stairs. 

Poor  Nana!  The  man  who  appeared  before  her 
was  not  the  Dr.  Eustace  of  her  dreams. 

He  was  short  and  thick  set  with  red  face  and  shocky 
hair  like  his  mother's,  but  he  looked  good  natured 
and  even  kind. 


IN    THE    CITY.  73 

' '  And  is  it  me  ye  be  afther  wishin'  to  consult  ?  "  he 
inquired  in  a  rich  brogue,  as  he  stooped  to  examine 
Nana's  pulse. 

"  I  want  to  see  Dr.  Eustace,  but  I'm  not  sick  at 
all!  "  Nana  blurted  out. 

"  Och!  "  grunted  the  mother,  "  It's  crazy  the  poor 
child  is!  I  was  after  seein'  it  in  her  eye  from  the 
firrust." 

"I  am  Docther  Eustace  at  your  sarvice,  mum," 
said  the  man  with  a  bow. 

You  are  not  the  Dr.  Eustace  who  builds  schools — 
you  are  not  this  Dr.  Eustace  ?  ' '  and  Nana  drew  from 
her  little  purse,  a  crumpled  wood  cut  which  she  had 
clipped  from  the  paper  the  teamster  had  given  her 
long  ago. 

The  doctor  examined  it  with  chuckles  of  admiration. 

11  That's  me!  I'm  your  identical  huckleberry!  "  he 
cried  at  last.  "Sure  and  ye' ve  not  missed  your  mark, 
whin  ye  aimed  here.  I  niver  founded  a  school,  bejab- 
bers,  but  doesn'  t  the  proverb  say  thot  the  intintion  is  as 
good  as  the  dade?  Faith,  and  I  would  have  been 
born  handsome  too,  like  thot,  if  sarcumstances  had 
not  been  ag'inst  me.  I  didn't  have  me  own  way 
about  thot  at  all,  at  all,  but  is  not  the  intintion  as  good 
as  the  dade?  What  is  your  business  wid  me, 
missy  ? ' ' 

Nana  tired  and  sick  at  heart,  unable  to  bear  her 
disappointment  longer,  burst  into  tears. 

"Och,  now,  acushla!  Don't  be  after  a  doin'  av 
thot!  What  be  ailin'  ye?  If  ye  be  in  nade  av  a 
frind,  Stacy  Bond's  your  b'y!  " 


74  LUCKY. 

He  was  touched  by  her  distress  and  strange  beauty. 
He  declared  that  he  was  willing  to  lay  down  his  life  for 
her  if  necessary,  and  when  the  whole  of  the  sad  story 
was  drawn  from  the  reluctant  lips  of  the  runaway,  he 
exclaimed,  slapping  his  salt  and  pepper  trousers  in  real 
delight. 

"  Faith,  and  ye  did  roight  me  plucky  darlint,  and 
Stacy  Bond's  the b'y  that'll  stand  by  ye  through  foire 
and  water,  through  thick  and  thin! " 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  PROPOSAL. 

STACY  BOND  was  Dr.  Eustace  Bond,  better  known 
to  consumers  of  patent  medicine  as  Dr.  Eustace. 
He  related  the  story  of  his  start  in  life  to  Nana  thus  : 

' '  The  poit  says  thot  tongue  is  long  and  toime  is 
fleetin',  but  as  nayther  you  nor  I  seems  pressed  wid 
business,  ye  might  loike  to  hear  how  such  a  homely 
man  as  me  can  take  so  foine  a  photygraph.  I  tuk  it 
from  the  counter  av  a  protygraph  store,  begarry,  or  I 
shouldn't  have  had  it,  nayther.  The  man  whose 
loikness  it  was  had  gone  to  the  Californy  shore,  and  I 
knew  'twas  safe,  for  if  Dr.  Eustace's  rimidies  should 
travel  thot  fur,  'twould  make  me  rich  enough  to  convince 
any  coort  thot  he  had  stolen  me  countenance  instid  av 
I  his  loikness.  I  hoired  a  man  to  wroite  me  touchin' 
stories  fer  the  papers.  Thot  was  some  toime  afther  I 
firrust  went  into  business,  howsomever. 

"  I  was  but  a  orphint  mesel'  and  me  mither  a  widdy, 
and  the  workhouse  a  stretchin'  out  its  yearnin'  arrums 
fur  us  both.  The  poit  Spearshook  says  '  How  sublime 
a  thing  it  is  to  suffer  and  growl  it  out,  begarry  ; '  but 
Stacy  Bond  did  not  agree  wid  the  ould  spalpeen.  I 
resolved  mesel'  to  stir  me  stumps  and  chate  bad  fortune. 
I  obeyed  the  sage  dictates  av  me  conscience  which  said 
to  me,  said  it  'Stacy  Bond,  me  b'y,  ye  want  bread, 

75 


76  LUCKY. 

and  if  I'm  not  mistook  your  principles  be  not  agin  the 
havin'  av  your  bread  buttered,  wid  ever  and  anon,  a 
relish  av  beefsteak  and  froid  onions.  Ye  have  often 
been  told  by  your  rich  and  distant — ahem — relations 
thot  no  b'y  should  have  tastes  above  his  station.  So 
if  ye  can't  suit  your  stummick  to  your  station,  Stacy, 
me  b'y,  ye  must  suit  your  station  to  your  stummick. 
Ye  are  fond  of  hoigh  art,  especially  in  the  desoigns  av 
meat  poys  and  sich  artistic  cupboard  furniture  and 
break-your-back.  Ye  know  thot  a  thing  av  beauty 
is  a  j'y  forever,  as  well  as  the  poit  did  whin  he  said  so, 
and  ye  know  thot  there's  nothin'  more  beautiful  than  a 
dish  av  roast  pig  wid  parsely  av  a  Thanksgivin'  Day. 

' '  Ye  know  what  ye  want,  your  rich  uncles  and  aunts, 
nivertheless.  Ye  don't  hanker  for  gems  thot  glisten 
wid  financial  loight,  ye  are  not  at  present  a  chasin' 
afther  the  broight  feathered  and  fleet  winged  birrud 
called  fame  ;  but  ye  do  pine  fur  a  square  meal  three 
toimes  a  day,  even  if  the  feelin'  don't  quoite  coincoide 
wid  the  rules  av  political  economy.  Let  Sokratix 
prate  and  Salamander  argy,  the  lariat  av  Tinnyson  is 
not  to  be  compared  wid  a  good  dinner.  A  good  dinner 
has  more  enloightenment  in  it  than  a  whole  art  loan 
crammed  wid  Purillos  and  Raffles.  It  breathes  out  an 
eddicative  influence  thot  knocks  to  smithereens  all  the 
tenets  av  Mill  and  Spincer. 

"This  was  my  philosophy.  I  soon  started  down 
the  strate  wid  a  satchel  slung  over  me  back  forhinst 
me.  It  wa'  n'  t  no  arishtocratic,  upper  crust  av  a  satchel, 
nayther  ;  but  if  patches  is  respictable,  as  they  says  they 


A    PROPOSAL.  77 

is,  then  thot  same  trusty  carpet  bag  had  plenty  av 
roight  to  respict.  I  can't  say  much  fer  the  halin'  power 
av  its  inner  contents.  I  made  it  mesel'  out  av  sugar 
and  flour  wid  a  little  Queen  Ann  mixed  in  to  give  it  a 
mediciny  flavor  to  plaze  the  popular  taste. 

' '  I  felt  aisy  in  me  mind  fer  me  rimidies  was  as  good 
as  any  av  the  kind  in  the  market.  Who  expects  to 
gather  paches  from  a  thistle  crop,  or  to  get  a  whole 
system  full  av  good  health  from  a  patent  medicine 
bottle  ?  But  there  was  another  thing  thot  troubled  me 
soul  and  very  near  broke  me  back.  The  satchel  was 
heavy  wid  its  weight  of  rimidies  fer  every  disaise  known 
to  mortal  man,  as  Shokespook  says  ;  then  I  said  to 
mesel' ,  '  Now,  Stacy,  ye  crazy  lune,  bad  luck  to  ye, 
why  don't  ye  invint  a  rimidy  thot  will  cure  all  disaises 
to  wanst  ?'  That  I  did,  and  whin  next  I  shinned  it 
down  the  strate,  I  carried  wid  me  a  rimidy  thot  would 
knock  anything  to  flinders  from  a  pin  prick  av  a  pain 
in  the  left  corner  av  the  north  east  eye  to  a  broken 
limb  av  three  months'  standin'.  Faith  and  St.  Patrick, 
it  was  a  rimidy  !  'Twas  thot  which  made  me  fortune. 

"  Whin  firrsut  I  started  me  men  in  the  field,  I  had 
crazy  work  av  it,  fer  often toimes  they  trisspassed  on  each 
others  torry  terry,  and  then  there  was  war  to  the  broom  - 
schtick  handle.  The  ladies  who  had  seen  wan  av  me 
agents  were  not  anxious  to  pursue  the  acquaintance  av 
another  unless  wid  a  butcher  knoif.  'Twas  an  evil  day 
fer  me,  begarry.  So  says  I  to  me  inmost  soul,  '  Stacy, 
me  b'y,  ye've  got  your  thinkin'  cap  on  the  wrong  soide 
av  your  head.  Rouse  up  and  straighten  it,  or  ye' re  a 


78  LUCKY. 

ruined  man.'  The  result  av  me  miditation  was  that 
whin  next  I  sallied  out,  I  hugged  an  idee  close  to  me 
throbbin'  breast. 

"  I  rung  a  bell,  and  the  "misses  appeared,  or  ruther 
the  ultimate  end  av  her  nose  did  through  an  infinitely 
small  crack  in  the  dure.  '  Be  off  wid  ye  !'  says  she, 
poloightly. 

"  'Excuse  me  kindly,  mum,'  says  I,  'but  I  have  a 
missage  av  importance  to  give  ye.' 

"  '  Come  in,  thin,'  says  she. 

"The  Rubbercorn  was  crossed  whin  I  crossed  the 
threshold.  Knowin'  thot  I  now  had  the  advantage,  I 
could  be  as  darin'  as  plazed  me  fancy.  I  drew  down 
me  mug  till  it  closely  resimbled  a  funeral  procession  on 
the  Fourth  av  Juloy,  and  says  I  to  her,  '  Me  grand- 
mither  is  dead,'  says  I. 

"  '  Poor  b'y  !'  says  she,  in  a  pityin'  tone. 

"  '  That's  what  I  am,  and  roight  ye  are  in  two  sinses 
av  the  word,'  says  I.  Then  I  related  in  me  most  heart 
crushin'  tone  the  story  av  the  good  lady's  death. 
Thrue,  she  doied  before  ever  I  was  born,  but  what  av 
thot?  A  man  who  would  spake  av  the  death  av  so 
near  a  relative  widout  the  sheddin'  av  a  few  tears  is  a 
wretch  indade.  I  did  me  duty,  ye  may  as  well  belave. 
I  stirred  her  heart,  and  when  I  saw  it  I  says,  says  I, 
'  But  the  most  terrible  part  av  it  is  she  moight  have 
been  saved.' 

' '  By  this  toime  I  was  settin'  in  the  parlor  on  a  sofy, 
wid  a  grand  pianny  at  me  roight  and  an  illegant  mirror 
at  me  left,  a  sippin  a'  glass  av  foine  wine,  as  who  would 


A   PROPOSAL.  79 

fuse  to  do  wid  a  broight  and  beautiful  lady  a  urgin' 
him,  and  a  sighin'  and  sayin'  '  Poor  b'y  !' 

"  '  Tell  me  av  it,'  says  she.  I  was  always  a  master 
hand  to  get  on  wid  the  ladies. 

"'That  I  will/ says  I.  ( There  is  nothing  in  the 
world  so  vallyable  for  influenza,  or  malariar  or  any 
disaise  you  moight  mintion  as  Dr.  Eustace's  Miracu- 
lous Compound.  This  her  mourners  urged  her  to 
take.  But  she  was  orthydox  and  employed  a  docther 
who  called  himself  a  regelar,  and  he  declared  it  was 
contrary  to  medical  antics  to  allow  her  to  take  a 
rimidy  so  newly  dishcovered.  So  she  doied. ' 

"  '  Don't  name  the  name  av  Dr.  Eustace  in  me  pris- 
ence,'  says  she. 

"  *  Be  aisy,  ma'am,  be  aisy!  What  have  ye  agin  Dr. 
Eustace,  the  blissed  man  ?  ' 

"  '  Some  man  sold  me  some  av  his  warthless  whoite 
powders,'  says  she. 

"  '  Whoite  powders  ? '  says  I.  *  Dr.  Eustace  sells  no 
whoite  powders.' 

"  *  Do  me  ears  decave  me?  ' 

"  '  No,  mum,  ye  hear  straight,'  and  I  tuk  from  me 
faithful  satchel  some  black  powders  to  convence  her. 

"  'Twas  aisy  enough  to  set  down  me  own  agents  as 
imposters,  and  them  me  the  same,  savin'  our  backs 
many  a  time  from  the  poker  and  the  rimidy  from 
losin'  av  its  repitation.  Whin  our  customers  had  been  a 
buyin'  av  black  powders  we  gave  'em  whoite,  and  if 
whoite  and  black  we  gave  'em  yellow. 

1 '  By  these  manes  I  was  at  length  able  to  trade  on  a 


80  LUCKY. 

larger  scale.  I  got  me  stories  wrote  and  printed,  and 
me  borryed  photygraph  fixed  at  the  top.  I  started 
all  me  men  out  in  little  wagons,  and  me  rimidy  was 
soon  so  much  in  demand  thot  the  drug  stores  in  some 
places  was  glad  to  handle  it.  I  have  a  winnin'  way 
peculiar  to  mesel'  alone  thot  gets  the  hearts  av  me 
customers.  And  now  I  am  gittin'  gradually  on  to 
fortune." 

Dr.  Eustace  set  Nana  to  work  folding  and  address- 
ing circulars,  and  labelling  bottles,  which  he  usually 
hired  done  when  he  did  not  have  time  to  attend  to  it 
himself.  He  paid  her  a  small  amount, and  his  mother 
was  persuaded  to  throw  in  board  and  lodging.  It  was 
not  an  ideal  situation,  but  she  resolved  in  the  mean- 
time to  be  looking  for  another.  In  the  stories  she  had 
read,  persons  were  always  on  the  watch  for  bright 
young  ladies  such  as  she,  to  serve  as  companions,  in 
which  situations  they  were  made  much  of,  and  finally 
ended  by  marrying  into  the  family,  et  cetera.  But  no 
one  seemed  to  want  Nana.  The  close  of  her  first 
month  in  L.  found  her  still  working  with  circulars  and 
paste. 

You  have  heard  Stacy's  life  history  as  told  by  him- 
self; but  his  mother  had  a  sequel  in  preparation. 

Biddy  Pitchly  was  a  laundry  girl,  and  a  lady  of 
beauty  and  wealth.  She  had  a  fine  presence,  weigh- 
ing nearly  two  hundred  pounds  at  the  lowest,  a  peach 
pudding  face,  sweet  as  a  rose,  Mrs.  Bond  declared, 
cunning  little  eyes  that  you  scarcely  could  see  for  the 
plumpness  of  her  cheeks,  and  round,  red  arms,  strong 


A    PROPOSAL.  8 1 

for  loving  embraces  and  the  washboard.  She  dressed 
elegantly  in  furbelows  of  gorgeous  colorings.  She 
had  a  hundred  dollars  in  the  bank,  and  an  uncle  who 
could  leave  her  as  much  more  if  he  would  only  be 
accommodating  enough  to  die.  She  was  fond  of 
Stacy,  and  if  he  did  not  return  her  affection,  he  was  a 
muttonhead,  or  so  said  Mrs.  Bond. 

Mrs.  Bond  had  never  favored  Stacy's  new  help. 
She  saw  in  Nana  a  dangerous  rival  to  her  favorite. 
That  the  girl  would  not  jump  at  the  chance  of  marry- 
ing her  idolized  son  never  entered  her  head. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  Nana's  fifth  week  at  the 
Bonds'.  She  was  busy  at  her  little  table  in  the  room 
which  Stacy  and  his  mother  dignified  by  the  name  of 
1 '  Office. ' '  Her  employer  entered,  and  began  to 
compliment  her  quickness  and  deftness  of  hand. 

(<  Faith,  I  could  not  do  widout  ye,"  he  declared. 

* '  Some  one  else  will  do  as  well  when  I  go, ' '  laughed 
Nana. 

"  You  must  never  go,  me  darlint,"  said  Stacy. 

Nana  paid  no  attention  to  the  affectionate  appella- 
tion. Stacy  and  his  mother  wer£  given  to  such 
epithets. 

' '  Me  darlint, ' '  he  said  again,  as  Nana  folded  her 
last  circular,  and  having  laid  it  upon  the  pile  at  her 
elbow,  arose  ta  go. 

Nana  started.  If  there  was  nothing  unusual  in  his 
manner  of  addressing  her,  there  certainly  was  in  the 
tone. 

' '  Don' t   be   scared,  alanna, ' '  he  continued   as   he 


82  LUCKY. 

noticed  the  change  in  her  face.  "A  bit  av  a  choild 
loike  ye  may  not  be  used  to  such  things,  so  I  will  be 
koind  enough  to  warn  ye  beforehand.  I'm  a'  goin'  to 
propose.'* 

"  To  propose  !  "     Nana  was  utterly  astonished. 

' '  Faith  yes.  And  why  not  ?  Ain'  t  me  business 
prosperous  enough  to  permit  me  to  have  a  woife? 
I've  been  a  thinkin'  av  it  since  the  day  ye  firrust  came. 
Says  I  to  mesel',  'Stacy  Bond,  me  b'y,  did  ye  ever  see 
such  eyes  and  such  hair  ?  And  did  ye  ever  see  such  a 
smart  girrul,  at  all,  at  all  ?  She's  just  the  woife  fer  ye, 
Stacy  Bond,  says  I.  But  be  aisy,  I'm  a  goin'  to  do 
me  courtin*  up  in  schtoile,  loike  they  does  in  the  books, 
never  fear.  Angel  av  me  heart,  loight  av  me  soul, 
hallelujah  av  me  eyes — " 

Nana's  patience  gave  way.  She  interrupted  him  at 
this  juncture  with  the  petulant  exclamation: 

"  Oh,  Dr.  Eustace,  do  stop  your  nonsense  !  " 

"Be  aisy,  Miss.  It  may  be  imbarrisin' ,  but  it  is 
essintial.  A  marriage  can  not  go  on  widout  the 
preliminaries,  at  all,  at  all,  so  plaze  don't  interrupt. 
Sure  and  I  have  been  a  thinkin'  av  this  fer  a  long 
toime,  and  know  how  to  do  it.  Beauteous  wan,  have 
ye  never  felt  in  the  hivin  av  me  prisence  a  devoin 
extatic  swellin'  av  the  soul — av  the  soul — av — av — 
och!  I  have  fergot  me  piece,  but  the  long  and  short 
av  it  is,  me  darlint,  though  Biddy  Pitchly  be  a  wantin' 
me  to  have  her,  I  loike  ye  best,  acushla,  and  I'll  have 
ye  if  ye' 11  have  me, '  sure  as  the  stump  grows  round  the 
voine,'  as  Spokeshear  says." 


A   PROPOSAL.  83 

Nana  was  too  angry  and  distressed  to  answer,  but 
slipped  through  the  arms  that  were  reached  out  to 
clasp  her,  and  hurried  to  her  own  room.  Sitting  down 
on  the  floor,  she  gave  vent  to  her  feelings  in  a  loud 
burst  of  laughter,  half  mirthful,  half  hysterical,  after 
which,  she  composed  herself  and  put  on  her  hat  for 
her  accustomed  walk. 

As  she  stepped  into  the  hall,  she  encountered  Mrs. 
Bond.  That  lady  did  not  seem  to  be  in  the  best  of 
humors. 

"Sure  and  what  is  this  ye  mane,  ye  simple  little 
country  gawk,  a  sittin'  yoursel'  to  lure  away  the  tinder 
affictions  av  me  only  son,  and  he  a  refoined  profis- 
sional  gintleman  ?  ' '  she  burst  out. 

Nana  protested  that  she  had  sought  to  gain  the 
affections  of  no  one. 

"Och!  Don't  I  know?  Wa'n't  I  a  listenin'  wid 
me  own  ears  at  the  kayhole  ?  Ye've  been  a  schemin' 
to  outwit  his  poor  ould  mither  that's  spent  years  a 
plannin'  fer  her  b'y,  and  his  future." 

"You  are  mistaken,  Mrs.  Bond.  I  have  tried  to 
outwit  no  one." 

"  And  ye  don't  mane  to  say  thot  ye  hadn't  any  de- 
soigns  on  me  son  ?  ' ' 

"  I  mean  to  say  just  that." 

"  Ye  have,  ye  little  whoite  wretch!  " 

Nana  was  by  this  time  too  indignant  to  control  her- 
self. 

"  I  tell  you  Mrs.  Bond,  that  you  are  altogether 
mistaken.  To  tell  you  the  whole  truth,  your  son  is 


84  LUCKY. 

not  the  style  of  man  I  would  care  to  marry,  so  you 
can  set  your  heart  at  rest." 

' '  Co  ye  mane  to  insult  me,  his  own  mither  ?  Why 
me  b'y  Stacy  is  good  enough  for  the  Quane's  daugh- 
ther,  much  less  than  you  that  he  picked  up  off  the 
strate.  Out  av  me  house  this  minute,  ye  hussy,  and 
don't  step  your  foot  inside  me  dure  agin  !  " 

Nana  found  herself  thrust  by  strong  hands  into  the 
street  and  trie  door  closed  behind  her. 

For  a  time  she  walked  along  undecided.  She  had 
no  wish  to  return  to  the  Bonds.  Everything  about 
the  house  was  distasteful  to  her,  and  now  it  would  be 
unbearable. 

She  had  gone  some  distance,  when  the  sign  ' '  Em- 
ployment Bureau ' '  greeted  her  eyes.  A  new  idea 
occurred  to  her.  Without  hesitation,  she  mounted 
the  steps  and  went  in.  The  interior  of  the  room  was 
none  too  inviting.  The  walls  were  bare  and  the 
window  hangings  tattered  and  dusty.  Several  chairs 
were  scattered  around  the  place,  and  five  or  six  coarse- 
featured  women  were  loitering  aimlessly  about.  Nana 
held  a  brief  conversation  with  the  woman  at  the  desk, 
who  eyed  her  disapprovingly. 

"There  ain't  much  ever  comes  along  for  girls  like 
you,"  she  said.  "  I  s'pose  you  can't  do  very  hard 
work.  Have  you  ever  lived  out  ?  " 

4 'No,"  Nana  faltered. 

"There  ain't  many  calls  for  help  that  ain't  got 
strength." 

' '  I  never  was  called  weak. ' ' 


A   PROPOSAL.  85 

The  woman  looked  at  her  again  very  closely. 

"  What  would  you  like  to  do  ?  " 

1 '  I  had  thought  of  going  as  companion  to  an  invalid 
lady." 

"  We  don't  have  many  such  calls,  and  you'd  never 
stand  a  house  maid's  duties.  I  guess  you  don't  know 
what's  before  you.  Have  you  a  home?  " 

' '  No, ' '  said  Nana,  and  a  chilly  sensation  crept  over 
her,  as  she  realized  how  utterly  desolate  she  was.  For 
the  first  time  since  leaving  the  Royster  farm,  she 
wished  herself  back. 

"  Well,  we' 11  see,  we'll  see,"  said  the  woman  kindly. 
' '  There  may  be  a  call.  We  do  get  one  now  and 
then.  I'd  advise  you  to  register  and  keep  up  heart." 

Nana  registered,  and  went  away  feeling  that  some- 
thing must  come  of  it.  She  had  been  educated  in 
books,  and  in  books,  something  always  happens  in  the 
nick  of  time.  The  story  of  utter  and  continuous  fail- 
ure seldom  is  told  in  literature  ;  it  is  too  uninteresting. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  PALLADIAN  ACADEMY  AND  NEW 
LESSONS  OF  LIFE. 

AT  the  small  lodging  house  where  Nana  had  at  last 
found  a  refuge  within  her  means,  she  was  still 
waiting.  A  week  had  nearly  elapsed  and  nothing  had 
come  to  her.  She  was  in  her  room  looking  over  her 
small  belongings  which  she  had  hired  a  boy  to  fetch 
from  the  Bonds',  and  calculating  how  long  the  price 
of  certain  articles  would  keep  her  alive  if  sold,  in  case 
she  found  no  work.  There  were  only  a  few  books 
and  trinkets  of  little  value  indeed.  Nana  glanced  over 
her  shoulder  into  the  small  cracked  looking-glass,  at 
her  hair,  silken  and  beautiful,  as  it  fell  over  her  shoul- 
ders in  luxurious  ripples.  She  had  read  in  stories,  of 
girls  who  had  sold  their  hair.  She  thought  with  a 
sigh  that  she  might  do  it  if  hard  pressed.  This  was 
the  subject  which  possessed  her  mind,  when  a  door 
opened  below,  and  her  landlady  called  up  the  stair: 

"Miss  Meers!  Miss  Meers!  Will  you  come  and 
speak  to  this  lady?" 

Nana  arose  quickly,  and  hurried  to  the  little  parlor 
on  the  first  floor,  where  the  lodgers  usually  received 
their  visitors.  As  she  entered,  a  lady  who  had  been 
sitting  on  a  chair  by  the  window  arose  to  greet  her. 

She  was  a  frail  little  creature  with  great  dark  circles 
under  her  eyes.  She  wore  a  neatly-fitting  dress  of 


THE    PALLADIAN    ACADEMY.  87 

blue  serge  and  a  large  sun  hat,  which  looked  as  though 
it  had  been  adjusted  in  a  hurry  without  much  thought 
as  to  the  points  of  compass;  her  hands,  which  were 
ungloved,  were  white  and  slender,  and  her  face  fine 
and  intellectual  as  it  was,  bore  evidence  of  its  owner's 
acquaintance  with  pain,  mental  or  physical,  or  both. 
Nana  had  little  chance  to  study  it,  for  the  young 
woman  took  a  keen  survey  of  her  from  head  to  foot, 
and  said, 

-You'll  do."  * 

Nana  looked  at  her  questioningly. 

* '  I  am  Miss  Sedling  of  the  Palladian  Art  Acad- 
emy," the  stranger  explained.  "We  are  in  trouble 
down  there,  and  I  have  undertaken  to  settle  matters. 
Our  model  went  off  in  a  huff  this  morning,  and  Mr. 
Hartman  thought  classes  would  have  to  be  suspended 
until  another  could  be  secured.  I  happened  to  know 
Mrs.  Yates,  your  landlady,  who  sometimes,  you  see, 
chances  to  have  with  her,  persons  glad  of  temporary 
employment,  and  I  came  to  her  for  assistance  in  the 
dilemma.  She  has  referred  me  to  you.  Will  you 
come?  " 

An  art  academy  !  Nana  found  the  prospect  en- 
trancing. She  would  gladly  go. 

"All  you'll  have  to  do  is  to  wear  a  Roman  costume 
and  stand  as  you  are  placed,"  Miss  Sedling  went  on 
to  explain.  ' '  You  will  make  a  fine  picture  with  a 
classic  background.  Our  patron  goddess  must  have 
directed  my  footsteps  this  morning. ' ' 

Nana  ran  to  get  her  hat.   Her  picture  to  be  painted, 


88  LUCKY. 

and  in  a  Roman  costume  with  a  classic  background  ! 
How  delightfully  romantic  ! 

She  was  soon  ready,  and  as  they  walked  along,  her 
companion  waxed  communicative. 

"  I  like  your  looks,"  she  said,  "  and  it  will  give  me 
great  pleasure  to  paint  you.  You  will  find  posing 
monotonous,  I  dare  say,  but  they  will  pay  you  fifty 
cents  an  hour.  You  did  not  ask  me  what  they  would 
pay  before  you  agreed  to  come.  Why  not  ?  ' ' 

"Oh,  I  was  very  glad  to  go!"  exclaimed  Nana. 
1 '  I  have  never  seen  an  art  school,  and  I  consider  it 
very  good  fortune  indeed  to  have  my  picture  painted. " 

Miss  Sedling  smiled  at  her  enthusiasm. 

'  *  Where  have  you  lived  all  your  life  ?  ' '  she  asked. 

"In  the  country." 

'  'And  you  think  the  city  is  a  wonderful  place  ?  ' ' 

"  I — I  was  rather  disappointed  in  it  at  first,  but  now 
I  am  sure  I  shall  like  it,"  said  Nana. 

"Youth  is  very  hopeful,"  Miss  Sedling  remarked, 
with  another  odd  smile  upon  her  lips. 

Nana  wondered  how  old  she  was.  She  had  a  quick 
elastic  step,  and  her  voice  was  light  and  young.  But 
there  was  such  a  worn  expression  upon  her  face. 
Nana  could  not  guess  her  age. 

Miss  Sedling  cast  another  swift  glance  at  Nana, 
taking  her  in  from  head  to  foot. 

"  You  are  a  little  wild  flower,"  she  said  at  length. 
"  It  is  not  often  we  have  a  model  like  you.  I  do  not 
intend  any  flattery.  I  speak  as  an  artist.  Never  be 
vain.  Take  the  gifts  which  God  has  bestowed  and 
enjoy  them  humbly.  I  was  once  beautiful." 


THE  PALLADIAN  ACADEMY.          89 

Nana  glanced  at  the  weary  little  face  somewhat 
doubtfully,  at  which  her  companion  smiled  again. 

"  There  is  something  more  than  mere  physical 
beauty  in  the  face  which  I  admire.  Do  you  know 
what  that  is  ?  "  Miss  Sedling  inquired. 

Nana  did  not.  Indeed,  she  was  beginning  to  feel 
herself  utterly  insignificant  beside  this  little  woman, 
this  real  artist. 

1 '  I  mean  soul — expression.  The  face  which  tells  a 
story." 

' '  What  story  can  mine  tell  ? ' '  Nana  questioned 
\\onderingly. 

"It  tells  one." 

"  Do  tell  me  what." 

1 '  You  are  interested  in  yourself,  are  you  not  ? 
Well,  it  is  but  natural.  Youth  always  is.  It  is  not 
vanity.  It  is  simplicity  and — and  curiosity.  Youth 
is  curious  and  it  has  a  right  to  be.  Youth  stands  on 
the  brink  of  life  and  looks  eagerly  forward,  proud  and 
confident  in  its  own  little  craft  that  soon  must  be 
launched  upon  the  flood.  Poor  little  boat !  We  may 
hope  that  it  carries  a  good  strong  life  line. ' ' 

The  two  were  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  Miss 
Sedling  spoke  again. 

'  'Are  you  visiting  here  ?  ' ' 

"  No." 

*  'Are  your  parents  living  ?  ' ' 

''No." 

"  Poor  child  !  Did  you  come  here  expecting  to 
work?" 


90  LUCKY. 

"  To  work  and  study,  if  I  can." 

' '  To  study  what  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  am  so  ignorant.  I  want  to 
know  everything." 

' '  You  can  not  do  that.  However,  mere  knowledge 
is  nothing.  What  one  wants  is  development.  You 
should  study  art." 

"I  should  like  to." 

' '  Art  is  a  refuge  from  the  world  and  from  yourself, 
that  is,  the  study  of  it.  I  like  you.  I  am  city  born, 
and  you  are  something  new  and  curious  to  me.  I  am 
used  to  hot-house  roses  and  artificials.  Sweet  briars 
are  rarities  in  the  market.  I  am  going  to  have  you 
pose  for  me  privately,  later  on.  I  want  to  paint  you 
with  a  country  background,  and  call  you  '  The  Sweet 
Briar. '  Do  you  like  the  idea  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh,  if  you  could  only  paint  the  little  hills!"  mur- 
mured Nana.  "  I  should  love  to  see  them  again." 

"  Are  you  homesick  ?  " 

11  No,  only  for  the  hills  and  the  cattle,  and— and — " 

"You  must  tell  me  of  them,  and  probably  I  shall 
be  able  to  do  it.  We  are  nearing  the  Academy  now, 
and  I  must  give  you  a  word  of  warning.  You  must 
not  pay  attention  to  anything  you  hear  said.  We 
can  not  afford  to  be  sensitive  in  this  world  of  work. 
No  one  who  loves  art  for  its  own  grand  sake  will  annoy 
you,  but  there  are  some  who  may.  However,  always 
remember  that  I  am  your  friend,  and  that  I  am  about 
the  oldest  student  in  the  place,  which  gives  me  a  sort 
of  distinction.  I  should  advise  you  as  soon  as  pos- 


THE    PALLADIAN    ACADEMY.  91 

sible  to  change  your  mode  of  dressing.  Yours  is 
picturesque  I  allow,  but  rather  old  fashioned  and 
countrified.  Here  we  are." 

The  Academy  grounds  were  spacious  and  green. 
In  the  center  stood  the  building,  which  Nana  thought 
very  odd  in  shape,  and  Miss  Sedling  told  her  that  it 
was  built  after  an  old  Greek  pattern.  The  halls  were 
dark  and  even  chilly.  Miss  Sedling  led  Nana  upstairs 
into  a  small  room  with  one  grimy  window,  through 
the  panes  of  which  the  sunlight  struggled  faintly. 
She  then  brought  out  from  a  cobwebby  wardrobe,  the 
Roman  dress  which  was  once  white,  perhaps,  but  of  a 
decidedly  negative  tint  now,  and  much  the  worse  for 
wear.  Nana  was  soon  arrayed  in  its  classic  folds,  and 
conducted  in  triumph  before  the  class. 

"  She  has  captured  one  !  She  has  captured  one  !" 
was  the  enthusiastic  greeting.  Nana  thought  it 
extremely  rude.  Her  newly-found  friend  seemed  to 
read  her  thoughts,  and  whispered  : 

' '  Never  mind.  This  is  the  realm  of  art.  Don' t 
have  any  feelings.  They  are  superfluous.  You' 11  get 
used  to  it. ' ' 

Nana  was  duly  placed  in  pose,  and  after  a  few 
murmurs  of  admiration,  the  class  fell  to  work. 

Nana's  task  was  no  easy  one.  She  was  beginning 
to  feel  faint  from  standing  so  long,  when  some  one 
remarked,  in  a  mechanical  tone  : 

1 '  The  model  has  moved  her  head. ' ' 

"They  talk  as  if  I  were  a  block  of  wood,"  thought 
Nana,  but  Miss  Sedling  was  at  her  side,  whispering 


92  LUCKY. 

words  of  encouragement,  and  telling  her  that  it  was 
time  to  rest. 

"  It  isn't  often  Miss  Thalia  descends  from  her  lofty 
height,"  a  student  remarked  loud  enough  to  be  heard, 
as  Nana  passed  into  the  cloak  room,  leaning  on  Miss 
Sedling's  arm. 

1 '  She  is  behaving  strangely, ' '  was  the  answer. 
"  But  really  the  model  is  pretty — more  than  pretty." 

' '  That' s  nothing.  We'  ve  had  pretty  models  before. 
She's  dowdy  enough.  I  saw  them  as  they  came  into 
the  hall  down  stairs,  before  she  put  on  the  costume." 

' '  There  is  no  telling  what  Thalia  will  do.  She  is 
freakish.  She  is  an  old  student  and  a  good  one  ;  we 
must  respect,  but  thank  goodness,  we  needn't  imitate 
her." 

Nana  took  her  place  again  when  called,  and  so  the 
forenoon  went  by  with  alternate  posing  and  resting. 

"You'll  be  on  time  to-morrow?"  a  voice  called 
after  her,  as  almost  deaf  and  blind  from  over-exertion, 
she  turned  to  leave  the  wilderness  of  easels  and  canvas 
for  the  last  time  that  day. 

"  I  will  not  fail,"  she  replied,  and  hurried  out. 

Miss  Sedling  was  in  the  dressing  room  to  unpin  the 
ancient  drapery,  and  help  Nana  to  readjust  her  own 
gown  and  hat. 

"  You  are  tired,  are  you  not?"  she  said.  "To- 
morrow I  must  see  that  you  get  to  rest  oftener.  But 
you  have  captivated  them  all.  I  heard  Mr.  Hartman 
himself  call  you  a  sylph.  That  ought  to  be  enough  to 
rest  you  immediately,  for  Mr.  Hartman  seldom  takes 
time  to  be  complimentary." 


THE   PALLADIAN   ACADEMY.  93 

Nana's  reflections  were  none  too  pleasant  as  she 
walked  homeward.  Notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
Mr.  Hartman  had  taken  time  to  praise  her,  she  vowed 
that  nothing  but  the  money  would  entice  her  into  the 
Palladian  Academy  again.  She  had  to  live,  and  well 
it  was  for  the  unfinished  picture.  The  remarks  she 
had  overheard  concerning  herself  and  her  dress  seemed 
more  than  she  could  bear ;  but  she  would  not  be  a 
laughing  stock  because  of  her  old  country  made  dress, 
which  she  had  once  thought  so  pretty.  Sooner  than 
that,  she  would  sell  her  hair.  With  this  idea,  she 
repaired  to  the  establishment  of  a  well-known  hair- 
dresser, immediately  after  dinner,  which  was  very 
hurriedly  eaten  lest  any  delay  should  weaken  her 
resolution. 

She  crept  up  the  stairs  and  knocked  timidly  at  the 
door.  It  was  opened  by  a  blustering  young  woman, 
with  wiry  hair,  steel-gray  eyes,  and  harsh,  masculine 
voice. 

"Well,  miss,  what  can  I  do  for  you?"  she  asked 
as  Nana  hesitated  on  the  threshold. 

'  *  Do  you  buy  hair  here  ?  ' '  the  girl  faltered. 

"Yes,  sometimes." 

' '  Will — will  you  buy  mine  ?  ' ' 

The  woman  stepped  forward,  and  took  one  of  Nana's 
curls  between  her  fingers.  She  examined  it  critically 
for  a  moment,  then  said  : 

"Yes,  I'll  take  it." 

"What  will  you  pay?" 

' '  Twenty-five  cents  an  ounce. ' ' 


94  LUCKY. 

' '  How  many  ounces  are  there  ? ' ' 

"About  six." 

The  vision  of  a  new  gown,  ribbons,  and  gloves 
instantly  vanished.  It  was  a  bitter  disappointment. 
Nana  slid  into  a  chair  and  wept  silently.  The  woman 
had  produced  a  great  pair  of  shears,  and  stood  eyeing 
the  sobbing  girl  half  scornfully. 

"Well,  shall  I  take  it?  Are  you  in  need  of 
bread?" 

Nana  sprang  to  her  feet,  shot  a  swift  glance  at  her 
questioner,  then  without  a  word  of  reply,  left  the 
place. 

As  she  was  returning  to  her  lodging,  a  sign  in  the 
window  of  a  dilapitated  building  caught  her  attention. 
It  read  :  "  Cash  for  Second  Hand  Books."  Here  was 
another  hope.  Nana  had  several  books  as  good  as 
new  ;  she  would  sell  them. 

A  little  old  man  in  a  shabby  coat  met  her  as  she 
entered,  and  inquired  with  a  smile,  '  *  What  does  the 
lady  wish  ? ' '  However,  when  it  was  found  that  she  had 
only  come  to  see  about  disposing  of  a  few  volumes, 
his  countenance  fell,  and  he  growled  out : 

"  Got  'em  with  you?" 

' '  No,  I  came  to  see  if  you  would  take  them. ' ' 

'  *  How  can  I  tell  ?  I  don' t  make  bargains  in  no 
such  way,  Miss.  You'  11  have  to  bring  '  em  if  you  want 
to  sell  'em  here." 

"What  do  you  pay?" 

"Oh,  it  depends.      Can't  tell  until  I  see  'em." 

Nana  ran  home  to  her  room,  and  brought  back  her 


THE  PALLADIAN  ACADEMY.          95 

books  for  the  old  man's  inspection.  He  took  them 
from  her  hand,  turned  them  over,  and  shook  his 
head.  Nana's  heart  stood  still. 

"  Can' t  allow  you  more  than  fifty  cents  for  the  six." 

**  But  see  how  new  they  are.  I  paid  much  more 
for  them." 

"  Can't  help  that.  I  aint  here  for  my  health.  I'll 
give  you  just  what  I  said  ;  take  it  or  leave  it." 

"Take  them,"  said  Nana  when  she  saw  that  this 
was  final. 

The  man  counted  out  her  money  from  a  dirty  little 
linen  bag  which  he  took  from  his  pocket.  Nana  received 
it  with  a  sigh  and  left  the  shop. 

The  result  of  this  business  transaction  was  a  new 
collar  and  a  tortoise  shell  hairpin  such  as  the  girls  at  the 
Academy  wore.  She  bought  them  at  a  notion  store  on 
her  way  home.  It  was  the  best  she  could  do,  though  it 
was  but  a  step  toward  conventional  fashion.  The  pin, 
she  placed  with  pride  in  the  fluffy  pyramid  of  brown 
hair,  which  after  several  fruitless  attempts,  she  suc- 
ceeded in  building  up.  It  was  entirely  satisfactory 
as  far  as  it  went.  She  glanced  repeatedly  at  her  handi- 
work in  the  looking-glass,  and  thought  what  an  utter 
transformation  a  trained  gown  would  make  in  her 
appearance. 

She  had  turned  over  a  new  leaf  in  life's  text-book. 
The  dreams  of  our  ignorance  turn  to  dust  and  ashes 
under  the  touch  of  Experience's  hand.  Nana  resolved 
to  follow  the  advise  of  Miss  Sedling,  to  do  away  with 
all  feeling,  and  expect  nothing  further  at  the  hand  of 
fate. 


96  LUCKY. 

The  next  day  found  her  at  her  place  before  the  class 
in  the  Palladian  Academy,  a  little  paler  than  usual, 
but  with  a  look  of  pride  and  determination  about  her 
lips  that  no  one  could  fail  to  notice.  Miss  Sedling 
told  her  that  Mr.  Hartman  intended  to  paint  her  por- 
trait himself,  he  had  found  her  so  interesting,  and 
several  of  the  older  lady  students  were  wild  to  have 
her  pose  for  them  privately. 

1 '  I  told  them  that  I  did  not  know  whether  you 
would  or  not/'  Miss  Sedling  said. 

"  I — I  need  the  money  very  much,"  said  Nana  ner- 
vously. 

"  But  it  won't  do  to  appear  too  anxious,"  warned 
Miss  Sedling.  "  Let  me  manage  that.  I'll  have  the 
price  of  your  sittings  raised  before  you're  a  week 
older." 


CHAPTER  IX. 
THALIA. 

NANA  had  been  at  the  Academy  three  months 
and  was  beginning  to  feel  quite  at  home.  Mr. 
Hartman  had  induced  a  wealthy  lady  patron  of  the 
school  to  take  an  interest  in  her,  and  she  had  begun 
to  study  drawing  with  an  under  teacher,  preparatory 
to  entering  the  life  class. 

She  had  realized  her  desire  to  possess  a.  stylish 
gown,  and  no  one  ever  spoke  of  her  now  as  dowdy. 
She  was  considered  a  very  fortunate  young  lady  to 
have  been  taken  up  by  Mrs.  Star,  who  kept  a  fine 
house,  went  into  society,  and  took  a  trip  abroad  when- 
ever she  pleased.  Mrs.  Star,  it  was  rumored,  had  a 
son  also,  and  who  could  tell  what  might  happen? 
Miss  Meers  was  beautiful  enough  to  grace  any  posi- 
tion. 

She  was  sitting  in  the  lecture  room  one  morning 
almost  concealed  by  the  cast  of  Psyche,  when  she 
heard  her  name  mentioned. 

' '  That  girl, ' '  said  a  large  woman  in  bright  blue,  to 
an  insignificant  little  creature  with  palette  and  brushes 
under  her  arm,  "  that  girl  has  a  future  before  her." 

"Has  she  any  talent?" 

4 '  Hum,  can't  say.  Divine  gifts  are  nothing  nowa- 
days. She  has  a  pretty  face  and  insinuating  manners. 

97 


98  LUCKY. 

I'll  warrant  Miss  Sedling  wishes  she'd  left  her  in  her 
wretched  boarding  house  to  starve. ' ' 

"How  so?" 

' '  Because  she  has  what  Miss  Sedling  should  have. ' ' 

"What's  that?" 

"  Mr.  Hartman's  favor  and  Mrs.  Star's  support." 

*  *  Miss  Sedling  is  always  admiring  her. ' ' 

"Yes,  but  that's  a  blind.  How  can  she  do  other- 
wise ?  Do  you  suppose  she's  going  to  rejoice  in  Mr. 
Hartman's  infatuation,  when  you  know  she's  dead  in 
love  with  him  herself?  " 

"  He  seems  to  be  rather  prejudiced  in  her  favor  too. 
Do  you  think  they'll  ever  marry  ?  " 

"Marry!  Land  sakes,  no!  Thalia  is  half  dead 
with  consumption.  The  model — I  mean  Miss  Meers, 
has  the  upper  hand." 

The  woman  in  blue  was  one  whom  Nana  had  often 
seen  pacing  up  and  down  the  corridor,  conversing 
earnestly  with  a  group  of  eager  listeners,  while  others 
passed  by  with  an  odd  smile  remarking  half  audibly, 
'  *  The  talking  machine. ' ' 

Nana  felt  hurt  at  what  she  had  heard.  She  had  not 
seen  Miss  Sedling  for  some  time.  Was  what  the 
woman  said  really  true?  Had  she  lost  the  kind 
regard  of  the  friend  she  loved  so  much  ? 

The  two  gossips  sat  down  and  began  to  sketch  the 
very  Psyche  behind  which  the  girl  sat,  keeping  up 
their  chatter  meanwhile.  Presently  the  door  opened, 
and  the  subject  was  immediately  changed.  The 
woman  in  blue  burst  out  with: 


THALIA.  99 

"What  life  is  more  happy  than  that  of  the  student, 
especially  the  student  of  an  art?  While  others  walk 
the  earth,  he  treads  the  clouds.  He  may  not  succeed 
in  the  world's  sense  of  the  word,  but  after  all,  is  he  a 
failure  ?  Some  poet  has  said  that  even  our  failures  are 
a  prophecy.  If  this  life  is  all,  then  what  are  our 
longings  created  for  ?  Are  those  who  yearn  for  the 
unattainable,  simply  questions  without  answers  ?  " 

The  girl  who  had  just  come  in  joined  the  group  and 
said: 

' '  I  see,  Mrs.  France,  that  you  are  trying  to  vindi- 
cate my  right  to  existence.  Bravo  !  And  thrice 
again,  bravo!  You  are  supremely  charitable  to  con- 
cede me  the  privilege.  Few  there  are  who  care  how 
much  a  poor  glow-worm  may  struggle  to  let  its  little 
light  shine  for  eyes  that  see,  smile,  and  forget,  but  the 
worm  understands  and  if  it  can  enjoy  its  brief  hour  of 
diminutive  triumph,  let  it,  for  there  are  worms  and 
worms,  and  to-morrow  it  dies  and  is  never  missed." 

' '  Who  calls  you  a  failure,  Miss  Sedling  ?  ' ' 

"No  one  has  dared  as  yet.  But  the  glow-worm 
knows  that  she  is  not  the  moon." 

' '  You  are  the  brightest  star  among  us,  Miss  Sed- 
ling." 

"  I  am  a  meteor,"  the  girl  rejoined. 

"If  you  were  Miss  Meers,  you  would  not  speak  in 
that  way.  I  don't  doubt  that  she  thinks  herself  a 
genius." 

* '  Miss  Meers  has  health  and  spirit  and  beauty. 
She  will  succeed  easier  than  others.  I  should  call 
life  worth  the  living  if  I  were  like  her.  * ' 


100  LUCKY. 

The  others  exchanged  meaning  glances. 

"  Always  raving  over  superficiality,"  remarked  Mrs. 
France. 

"  Well,  what  is  the  use  of  always  keeping  our  best 
admiration  for  abstractions  ?  I  adore  realities.  I  have 
always  regarded  soul  as  the  fountain  head  of  expression, 
but  I  have  never  seen  a  soul.  The  outer  mask  is  all  I 
have  before  which  to  bow." 

' '  But  there  is  that  subtle  something  which  dis- 
tinguishes the  work  of  genius  from  that  of  the  ordinary 
mortal.  Have  you  no  feelings  of  exaltation  in  the 
presence  of  that  ? ' ' 

1  ( I  consider  that  subtle  something  to  be  the  result 
of  patient,  long-suffering  labor,  experience  and  observa- 
tion." 

' '  Gross  materialist !  I  am  surprised  that  a  woman 
of  your  talent  should  set  so  little  store  by  it." 

"Well,  I'd  rather  by  far  possess  all  the  gowns  in 
Madame  Rambeau's  window  at  present,  than  half  the 
stuff,  essence,  or  whatever  you  call  my  talent.  I 
always  walk  that  way  in  order  to  look  at  those  gowns, 
which  I  am  ready  to  fall  down  on  my  face  before. 
They  transform  the  bisque  figures  on  which  they  are 
draped  into  goddesses.  It  is  the  externals  that  make 
life  worth  living." 

"  How  about  this  Miss  Meers,  anyway?  " 

"  Miss  Meers  ?  Oh,  its  been  an  age  since  I've  seen 
the  child.  She  doesn't  need  me  now." 

' '  What  does  she  study  ?  ' ' 

* '  Drawing  principally.     She  is  getting  ready  for  the 


THALIA..,   •  »  '     •  . '•    '"    101 


life  class,  I  understand.  ,•  She-  attends-  the  lecti'ai^e^  too, 
I  think,  for  the  Theory.'  •  T  'despise  theories.''  T  flee 
from  them  as  from  a  pestilence.  My  forte  is  practice. 
I  don't  want  books  or  talks  or  sputterings  which  they 
dignify  by  the  name  of  criticism.  What  I  want  is  life, 
life  pure  and  simple,  life  with  all  its  beauty  and  all  its 
ugliness. ' ' 

"  You  mean  for  your  art  work." 

1 '  Certainly.     Isn'  t  art  my  life  ?  " 

' '  You  contradict  yourself.  A  little  while  ago  you 
said  you  would  forego  success  for  a  new  gown." 

' '  Did  I  say  that  ?  Were  those  my  exact  words  ? 
Well,  let  it  pass,  at  any  rate.  We  all  contradict  our- 
selves. When  a  certain  passion  sways  us,  we  are  one 
being,  and  when  that  passes  away,  we  are  another." 

'  *  Has  she  any  talent — Miss  Meers,  I  mean  ?  What 
does  she  intend  to  make  of  herself? ' ' 

"  I  don't  know.  Her  plans  are  probably  not  yet 
well  defined.  She  has  simply  caught  the  art  fever 
because  it  is  in  the  atmosphere.  But  she  will  succeed. 
She  was  made  for  success. ' ' 

"  Is  Mr.  Hartman  fond  of  her  ?  " 

"  I  believe  he  considers  her  a  very  promising 
student.  However,  I  have  not  heard  him  speak  of 
her  often." 

Miss  Meers  scanned  the  features  of  the  pale  girl,  from 
worn  young  brow  to  delicately  pointed  chin.  They 
were  as  symmetrical  as  a  marble  masterpiece,  but  they 
were  not  beautiful;  they  were  too  wan  for  that.  Nana 
felt  that  if  she  had  put  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of  Miss 


102  LUCKY. 

Sedli/ng;$  happiness,  she  could  never  forgive  herself. 

With  a  few  more  comments,  the  woman  in  blue  and 
her  companion,  gathering-  up  their  drawing  materials, 
took  their  leave,  as  the  clock  had  struck  ten,  and  they 
were  due  at  private  appointments  with  an  instructor. 
When  they  had  disappeared  through  the  door,  Nana 
emerged  from  her  hiding  place. 

"I  have  heard  it  all!"  she  cried,  throwing  her 
arms  about  her  friend,  and  bursting  into  tears. 

"Tush!  Tush!  Don't  be  volcanic.  It  doesn't 
pay,"  Miss  Sedling  replied,  stroking  her  hair. 

' '  But  they  said — they  said  before  you  came  in,  that 
I  was  standing  in  your  light,  that  I  was  making  you 
miserable. ' ' 

"And  you  kept  hid  and  listened?  " 

"Yes." 

' '  That  was  not  etiquette,  but  it  was  perfectly  proper 
in  the  unconventional  sense,  that  is,  if  you  wanted  to 
run  the  risk  of  making  yourself  miserable.  I  speak  to 
you  as  to  a  sensitive  plant.  When  a  few  more  summer 
suns  have  showered  their  scorching  light  upon  you,  I 
can  advise  differently.  But  truly,  nothing  that  any- 
body says  is  worth  the  trouble  of  contradicting. ' ' 

' '  But  if  none  of  it  is  true,  why  did  you  keep  your- 
self from  me  ?  I  do  need  you  as  much  as  I  ever  did. 
I  have  been  very  lonely. ' ' 

' '  Mrs.  Star  is  your  patroness  now,  and  not  Thalia 
Sedling.  Mrs.  Star  is  very  exclusive  and  particular. 
Does  she  visit  you  much  ?  ' ' 

"Very  seldom." 


THALIA.  103 

' '  And  when  she  does  ?  ' ' 

"  She  is  polite  and  kind." 

"  Does  she  give  you  much  advice?" 

"  Yes,  about  studying  hard." 

"  Has  she  said  anything  about  your  associates  ?  " 

"No." 

1 '  Well,  you  see,  I  was  once  an  actress.  There  is  a 
prejudice  against  the  calling,  you  know,  especially 
among  persons  of  Mrs.  Star's  class.  An  art  school  is 
supposed  to  be  a  democracy,  and  perhaps  it  is,  but  I 
was  afraid  that  your  friend,  the  great  lady,  might 
object  to  me,  and  I  did  not  want  to  stand  in  your 
l:ght.  You  have  your  way  to  make  in  the  world. 
Mine  is  already  made." 

Nana  looked  at  her  companion  admiringly. 

"  And  you  were  really  an  actress,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Miss  Sedling  with  a  smile. 

"Oh,  how  I  envy  you  !  How  I  should  like  to  be  an 
actress  !  I  think  it  is  the  greatest  profession  in  the 
world." 

"So  do  I,  if  there  is  any  profession  that  is  really 
great.  Somehow,  I  think  that  the  farmer  at  work  in 
his  field  has  more  time  for  sentiment  and  romance  than 
we  who  are  supposed  to  dwell  in  the  midst  of  it.  If 
the  farmer  only  knew  how  !  " 

"Some  do,"  said  Nana  thinking  with  a  pang  of 
Lucky  Fielding  whom  she  had  set  out  with  all  her 
heart  to  forget,  even  if  she  must  force  herself  to  fall  in 
love  with  some  one  else  in  order  to  do  it. 

1 '  But  why  did  you  ever  leave  the  stage  ?  ' '  she  in- 


104  LUCKY. 

quired  after  a  moment  of  silence.  * '  Did  you  like 
painting  better  ?  ' ' 

* '  I  have  not  really  left  it,  though  I  do  not  do  the 
work  I  once  did.  My  health  will  not  permit.  I  used 
to  play  leading  comic  parts.  That  is  the  reason  why 
they  call  me  Thalia.  Quite  often  in  the  evening, 
I  go  as  supernumerary  when  any  is  needed,  to  help 
eke  out  my  income,  as  my  pictures  won't  sell.  It  is 
the  life  I  love.  I  love  the  theatre,  even  its  dust  and 
tawdry  decorations  which  newspaper  people  declare 
so  disenchanting.  I  love  the  hustle  and  bustle  behind 
the  scenes.  I  love  to  hear  the  soubrettes  quarrel  over 
curling  irons  and  looking  glasses,  and  to  peep  through 
a  hole  in  some  side  curtain  to  see  the  audience  sob- 
bing or  convulsed  with  laughter.  Whenever  I  come 
across  the  name  of  an  old  fellow  worker  of  days  gone 
by,  cut  or  scrawled  on  the  walls  of  a  dressing  room,  I 
kiss  it  as  fervently  as  a  heathen  does  his  idol." 

' '  How  odd  !  I  have  heard  it  said  that  you  had  a 
history." 

* '  So  I  have.  A  lady  once  asked  me  if  I  had  not, 
and  I  told  her  yes,  two  of  them,  a  History  of  the 
World,  and  one  of  the  United  States.  You  must 
come  to  my  room  some  time  and  I  will  show  you  my 
box  of  wigs  and  masks." 

"  How  very,  very  strange  !  " 

1  'Not  at  all.  Things  may  seem  so,  viewed  at  a 
distance,  but  when  you  have  once  Crossed  the  border 
and  entered  the  kingdom,  all  is  natural  and  even 
commonplace." 


THALIA.  105 

"  They  said  that — that — " 

''What  did  they  say?  Come,  confess  —  don't 
hesitate." 

"That  you  were  Mr.  Hartman's  favorite  student 
before  I  came,  and  that — " 

"  That  I  was  in  love  with  him.     Go  on." 

' '  How  did  you  know  ? ' ' 

"How  do  we  know  anything?  I  have  five  very 
acute  senses.  Go  on. ' ' 

* '  They  said  that  Mrs.  Star  was  doing  for  me  what 
she  ought  to  do  for  you." 

"Nonsense.  They  don't  know  what  they  are 
talking  of.  Did  you  know  that  Mr.  Hartman  is 
engaged  to  Mrs.  Star  ?  ' ' 

"Is  it  possible?" 

* '  Everything  is  possible.  Some  of  the  strange 
things  of  life  would  look  so  strange  in  a  book  that 
people  would  declare  it  to  be  extravaganza.  Not  that 
there  is  anything  so  very  strange  about  this  match, 
however.  Mrs.  Star,  I  suppose,  is  as  desirable  as  any 
woman,  and  we  must  own  that  Mr.  Hartman  is  a  man 
to  know  and  worship.  At  least,  the  ideal  Mr.  Hart- 
man is  —  we  may  not  know  the  real.  But  I  must  bid 
you  good-bye,  now,  for  there  goes  the  half-past  ten 
bell.  Can  I  see  you  this  evening?  No,  I  have  a 
novel  -appointment  to  fill  at  six,  and  after  that  I  shall 
be  too  tired.  But  say,  would  you  care  to  join  me  in 
my  walk  at  six  sharp  ?  ' ' 

"  Where  do  you  go — to  the  theatre?  " 

' '  No.     A  little  newsboy  just  starting  into  business, 


106  LUCKY. 

is  very  ill  and  afraid  he'll  lose  his  few  customers.  He 
has  only  about  twenty,  but  they  mean  bread  to  him- 
self and  little  brother.  I  have  agreed  to  carry  his 
papers  for  him,  they  are  so  few,  and  the  customers  are 
quite  near  together.  I  know  it  is  not  a  ladylike  thing 
to  do.  The  ladylike  thing  would  be  to  shed  a  few 
tears,  and  wish  it  were  not  so,  or  give  the  little  suf- 
ferer a  few  pennies,  then  go  off,  and  forget  him.  It's 
a  fine  lark,  bless  you.  I've  done  it  two  nights  in  suc- 
cession. Will  you  come,  and  treat  yourself  to  a  new 
experience  ? ' ' 

' c  Yes.     At  six,  you  say  ?  ' ' 

"At  six  on  the  corner  of  Fifth  and  K  street.  That's 
near  the  news  office  where  Barney  trades.  Then, 
we'll  have  supper  at  the  Alhambra  like  two  veritable 
Bohemians.  Will  Mrs.  Star  object  to  your  going?  " 

"  I  don't  think  she'll  care.  I  think  she  would  con- 
sider that  you  were  doing  a  very  noble  thing.  I  am 
proud  of  you." 

The  evening  was  damp  and  foggy,  but  Thalia  was 
at  the  trysting  place,  walking  up  and  down  impa- 
tiently, when  Nana  came  in  sight.  She  coughed 
slightly  when  she  opened  her  mouth  to  reply  to 
Nana's  greeting,  and  the  latter  inquired  concernedly: 

* '  Ought  you  to  be  out,  to-night,  dear  ?  ' ' 

' '  I  never  fail  when  I  have  promised  anything.  Be- 
sides, making  that  little  Irish  boy  happy  is  worth  a 
year  or  two  of  life.  You  should  see  his  big,  feverish 
eyes  shine  when  I  put  the  pennies  into  his  hand.  He 
would  fight  all  L  for  my  sake,  Barney  would.  But 


THALIA.  107 

here  is  the  news  office.  Notice  the  puzzled  look  in 
the  clerk's  eyes  when  I  ask  him  for  the  papers.  I 
don't  explain  anything.  I  like  to  keep  him  wonder- 
ing." 

The  papers  were  duly  handed  to  their  rightful 
recipients,  and  the  supper  at  the  Alhambra  was  eaten 
with  keen  zest.  As  they  stepped  into  the  street  again, 
a  thought  struck  Nana. 

"  They  say  that  Mrs.  Star  has  a  son,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Thalia,  "  but  he's  feeble  minded. 
I  suppose  they  have  been  romancing  about  him. 
Were  they  planning  to  marry  him  to  either  of  us  ?  " 

"I  have  heard  so." 

Thalia  laughed,  and  slipping  her  hand  through 
Nana's  arm,  said: 

"  We'd  better  step  up.  I  am  afraid  it's  going  to 
rain." 

The  storm  overtook  them,  however,  despite  their 
attempt  to  hasten  home,  and  resulted  in  Thalia's 
retiring  with  a  severe  cold.  On  the  following  day 
Nana  was  in  the  cloak  room  putting  on  her  wrap  and 
hat  to  pay  the  invalid  a  visit,  and  receiving  messages 
of  condolence  to  carry  in  the  name  of  various  ac- 
quaintances, when  in  walked  the  object  of  their  com- 
miseration, looking  radiant. 

' '  Great  news ! ' '  she  shouted,  waving  her  hand 
above  her  head.  ' '  My  picture  has  gone  to  the  exhi- 
bition and  will  have  a  good  place.  I  am  almost 
sure  of  honorable  mention.  Some  have  hinted  that  I 
may  take  the  European  prize.  Who'll  wager  me 
that  I  don't?" 


IO8  LUCKY. 

1 '  I  heard  that  you  were  very  ill  last  night.  How 
is  it  you  are  here  to-day  ? ' '  inquired  Mrs.  France. 

The  girl  sat  down  upon  the  floor,  and  lifted  her  eyes 
to  her  questioner's  face. 

"  Last  night  was  last  night,  and  to-day  is  to-day." 

' '  But  ought  you  to  be  out  ?  Ought  you  not  to 
wait  until  you  feel  better  ? ' ' 

"  If  I  did  that,  what  should  I  ever  accomplish  ?  It 
would  be  a  longer  wait  than  I  dare  make,  my  dear. ' ' 

"Are  you  better  ?  "  said  Nana  when  the  lesson  bell 
rang,  and  the  two  were  left  alone  in  the  cloak  room. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  am  told  not.  The  doctor  says 
I  must  be  careful.  I  trust  I  shall  be.  I  shall  not  go 
to  the  theatre  for  three  weeks  at  least.  Will  that  not 
be  a  sacrifice?  " 

"Three  weeks  is  not  a  long  time." 

' '  Is  it  not  ?  Why,  my  child,  how  long  are  your 
eternities  ?  But  come  to  my  room.  It  is  not  your 
lesson  hour,  and  I  want  you  to  see  my  den  and  its 
contents  by  daylight.  Besides,  there  is  the  picture  I 
talked  of  beginning  so  long  ago,  '  The  Sweet  Briar, '  I 
mean.  I  wish  I'd  done  that  for  the  exhibition.  I 
must  arrange  with  you  to  begin  it  immediately." 

It  was  a  rare  honor  to  be  invited  to  Thalia's  studio. 
Nana  gazed  about  the  poor,  half-furnished  apartment 
with  the  same  wonder  with  which  she  surveyed  every- 
thing that  pertained  to  Miss  Sedling.  There  were  the 
customary  easels  and  pictures,  palettes  and  brushes; 
but  the  paintings  on  the  easels  were  no  more  ordinary 
than  was  the  creator  of  them.  Nana  noted  two  in 


THALIA.  lOQ 

particular.  One, ' '  Waiting  for  the  Cue, ' '  represented 
a  young  girl,  dressed  in  pure  white,  standing  in  the 
wing  of  a  theatre,  finger  on  lip,  a  look  of  pleased  ex- 
pectation mingled  with  faint  anxiety  in  her  eyes,  and 
one  foot  advanced  ready  to  spring  forward  when  the 
signal  should  come.  The  other  was  called  * '  The 
Drop  Curtain/'  It  was  evidently  a  companion  piece, 
for  the  features  of  the  second  woman  bore  a  strong 
resemblance  to  those  of  the  first.  She  lay  upon  an 
iron  bed  in  a  wretched  room,  her  eyes  half  closed,  and 
a  look  of  death  upon  her  white,  drawn  face. 

There  were  books,  poems, .  dramas  and  novels  lying 
everywhere  in  the  studio.  A  decrepit  table  stood  in 
one  corner,  on  which  was  an  unfinished  manuscript 
play,  a  tattered  copy  of  "  The  Hunchback,"  scarred 
by  annotations  and  cutting,  and  a  bust  of  Moliere. 

1 '  I  keep  those, ' '  said  Thalia  in  the  midst  of  a  fit  of 
coughing,  "  '  To  hold  together  what  I  was  and  am/ 
as  Mrs.  Browning  puts  it.  I  don't  want  to  get  my 
several  separate  identities  mixed, or  to  forget  that  I  am 
I,,  if  you  can  understand  that  better.  That  is  my 
kitchen  and  dining-room  behind  yon  curtain.  I  have 
an  enchanting  little  coffee-pot,  and  will  show  you  by 
and  by  how  well  the  Muse  can  brew  the  popular  bev- 
erage, if  I  don't  forget.  Has  Mrs.  Star  scolded  you 
for  your  last  night's  folly  ?  " 

' 4  No.  I  have  not  seen  her.  Besides,  how  should 
she  know?" 

' '  Gossip  is  like  thistle-down  ;  it  flies.  Mrs.  Star 
is  very  well  known  and  I'll  wager  you  that  more 


1 10  LUCKY. 

people  know  you,  and  know  that  you  are  the  young 
lady  she's  educating  than  you  imagine." 

' '  How  do  you  happen  to  know  so  much  of  her  ? 
Are  you  personally  acquainted  ?  ' ' 

' '  I  am  a  sort  of  step-niece,  that  is  all.  I  am  the 
adopted  daughter  of  the  lady  who  married  her  brother. 
Both  are  dead  now." 

The  atmosphere  of  the  room  was  chilly,  and  Nana 
was  obliged  to  shiver  now  and  then.  She  thought 
how  bad  it  was  for  Thalia's  cough.  She  looked  at 
her  friend's  blue  serge,  which  though  still  neat,  was 
becoming  old  and  threadbare  about  the  elbows.  It 
made  her  heart  ache  to  see  it.  Here  was  the  girl 
whom  everybody  called  a  genius,  whose  life  everybody 
thought  so  romantic,  sitting  before  her,  pale  and  worn 
from  the  struggle  for  existence.  It  moved  her  to 
inquire, 

"Do  you  think  Mrs.  Star  would  have  done  any- 
thing for  you  if  I  had  not  come  ?  " 

"No.     I  am  not  pretty  3ike  you." 

"  But  you  are  attractive — yes,  and  you  are  beauti- 
ful." 

"In  the  artistic  sense,  perhaps — sometimes.  But 
you  are  beautiful  in  every  sense  at  all  times.  Don't 
worry  your  little  head  any  more.  I  dare  say  Mrs. 
Star  would  patronize  me  now  in  a  gingerly  way  to 
please  Mr.  Hartman,  if  I  would  allow  it.  Indeed  he 
has  intimated  as  much  to  me.  But  I  have  depended 
upon  myself  so  long  that  I  can  not  bear  the  idea  of 
reflected  glory,  Ishmael  loveth  the  desert.  Mr 


THALIA.  Ill 

Hartman  thinks  me  obstinate  and  Mrs.  Star  does  not 
insist.  The  son  calls  it  a  *  deuced  shame,'  but  his 
words  carry  little  weight." 

"How  old  is  the  son ?  Is  he  really  so  sadly  af- 
flicted?" 

' '  He  is  some  twenty  four,  handsome  enough,  but 
in  reality  weak.  Oh  dear,  let's  change  the  sub- 
ject! I  wish  you'd  call  me  Louise,  hereafter.  That 
is  my  own  old  name.  It  has  been  a  long  time  since 
I've  heard  it.  It  seems  to  me  you'd  make  music  of 
it  with  that  exquisite  voice  of  yours.  Some  one  else 
used  to  say  it  just  as  you  would,  I  fancy,  but  that's  all 
gone  by  now.  Look  what  has  taken  its  place  !  "  and 
the  girl  dragged  from  beneath  her  bed  a  box  of  wigs 
and  masks,  hideous,  Nana  thought  most  of  them. 

' '  They  have  kept  my  heart  from  breaking  many  a 
time,  the  darlings  ! ' '  cried  Thalia,  then  broke  down 
and  coughed  again. 

' '  You  think  this  is  dreadful, ' '  she  resumed  when 
the  paroxysm  had  passed,  laughing  in  Nana's  anxious 
face.  ' '  But  I  am  used  to  it.  It  has  been  several 
years  since  I've  seen  a  well  day.  Through  it  all  art 
has  been  my  consolation,  divine,  all  compensating 
art.  They  have  said  for  some  time  that  I  am  likely 
to  die  but  I  laugh  at  them,  /die  !  ha,  ha  !  " 

The  girl  threw  her  head  back  against  the  old  plush 
cushion  of  the  chair  in  which  she  sat,  and  gave  vent 
to  a  long,  low  peal  of  mirthless  laughter. 

Presently  her  expression  changed  to  one  of  intense 
agony. 


112  LUCKY. 

' '  I  can  not  die ! ' '  she  cried  starting  forward,  and 
burying  her  nails  in  either  temple.  ' '  I  will  not  die  ! 
I  have  too  much  to  do  !  I  love  this  body,  weak  and 
faulty  as  it  is.  I  don't  want  to  lose  my  identity  and 
become  all  soul.  I  want  to  be  myself,  myself!  I  don't 
want  to  dwell  in  the  midst  of  peace  and  perfection, — 
I  should  stagnate  utterly.  Give  me  humanity,  foolish, 
perverse,  wicked  humanity  !  Give  me  the  world  full 
of  unwritten  tragedy  and  comedy!  I'd  forego  heaven 
for  that!" 

After  this  outburst  she  lay  back  against  her  cushion 
for  a  moment  quite  exhausted,  then  rousing  herself, 
began  to  talk  lightly  of  ordinary  things,  prepared 
coffee  and  tea-cakes  for  her  visitor  and  behaved  as  if 
nothing  had  happened. 

The  exhibition  day  came.  Thalia  received  her 
honorable  mention  with  prophecies  of  the  European 
prize  at  no  late  day  in  her  career.  Nana  found  her 
sitting  against  a  mass  of  framework  in  the  gallery,  her 
eyes  closed  and  looking  very  tired. 

'  'Are  you  not  pleased  with  your  success  ? ' '  Nana 
inquired,  taking  her  hand. 

"  What  is  success?"  murmured  the  pale  girl,  half 
to  herself.  ' '  Success — only  a  clapping  of  hands,  a 
word  or  two  of  congratulation,  and  you  are  forgotten. " 

The  next  instant,  she  looked  up  and  smiled. 

"Come  to  my  room  to-morrow,"  she  said.  "  I 
must  finish  The  Sweet  Briar.'  I  wish  I  had  finished 
it  before  the  exhibition.  It  might  have  sold." 

"Are  you  well  enough  to  paint?  " 


THALIA.  113 

"To  paint  you — yes.  It  is  not  toil  but  pleasure. 
I  must  finish  'The  Sweet  Briar' — then  let  the  skies 
fall." 

But  the  picture  was  never  finished.  When  the 
next  day  arrived,  Miss  Sedling  found  herself  too  tired  to 
do  good  work,  and  dismissed  her  model  at  the  end  of 
an  hour.  She  did  not  explain  that  for  two  days  she 
had  been  living  on  strong  tea  and  hope — hope  that 
her  prize  picture  "  Evening  at  Bethlehem,"  would 
sell.  When  night  came,  she  dragged  herself  out  of 
bed  where  she  had  spent  the  afternoon,  and  contrary 
to  her  resolution  not  to  do  so  until  the  end  of  three 
weeks, she  went  to  the  theatre  to  earn  the  dollar  which 
would  sustain  her  for  several  days  longer.  The  exer- 
tion, together  with  an  added  cold,  was  more  than  her 
weakened  frame  could  endure.  It  brought  on  a 
relapse,  and  the  young  artist  was  so  ill  that  the  care 
which  could  be  given  her  in  her  room  was  deemed 
insufficient,  and  she  was  removed  to  a  public  ward  of 
the  city  hospital. 

Here  several  days  later,  the  curtain  fell  on  Thalia 
Sedling' s  life. 

There  was  a  great  sensation  at  the  Academy. 
Students  gathered  about  in  the  halls,  talking  in 
whispers.  The  class  rooms  were  draped  in  black,  and 
Mrs.  Star  very  kindly  brought  flowers  for  the  funeral. 
A  reporter  interviewed  Mr.  Hartman,  and  soon  after, 
the  story  got  abroad,  and  there  began  to  be  a  great 
demand  for  the  pictures  painted  by  the  girl  who  had 
lived  and  died  so  romantically.  Alas  that  romance 
should  be  so  hard  to  live  ! 


1 14  LUCKY. 

At  the  grave,  Bernard  Star  stood  beside  Nana.  Her 
beauty  was  softened  into  almost  saint-like  loveliness 
by  the  solemnity  of  the  hour.  When  the  services 
were  at  an  end,  he  turned  to  her  and  said : 

"You  are  Miss  Sedling's  friend,  are  you  not — the 
original  of  '  The  Sweet  Briar '  ?  I  should  know  you 
anywhere." 

"  I  am  Miss  Meers,"  the  girl  returned. 

"  It  is  a  shame,"  he  went  on,  walking  beside  her  as 
she  started  to  leave  the  cemetery  ' '  I  always  told 
mother  so.  I  admired  Miss  Sedling  very  much. 
Will  you  be  my  friend  for  her  sake  ?  " 

Nana  held  out  her  hand,  which  was  warmly  pressed 
by  the  son  of  Mrs.  Star. 


CHAPTER  X. 

AT   THE   ROYSTER   FARM.     LUND    COMES 
INTO  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

"  A  NY  news?"  inquired  Mrs.  Royster  of  Lund, 
f\  as  he  came  in  with  heavy,  dragging  step,  and 
threw  himself  into  a  chair.  Her  voice  was  more 
metallic  than  ever,  her  eyes  more  sunken,  and  her 
face  more  sallow,  the  result  of  anxious  days  and  sleep- 
less nights. 

She  had  never  loved  Nana;  but  the  girl  was  gone, 
and  the  weight  was  upon  her  conscience.  In  com- 
mitting an  error,  we  never  dream  how  poignant  will 
be  the  repentance  which  is  sure  to  follow  the  failure  of 
our  plans. 

Lund  had  no  news. 

"Well,  I'm  sure  it  ain't  my  fault,"  she  whined, 
rocking  to  and  fro;  then  unable  to  bear  the  gnawing 
weight  upon  her  soul,  she  burst  out  with: 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  my  fault?  " 

Lund  shook  his  head  dismally.  It  was  an  equivo- 
cal gesture.  She  felt  that  it  did  not  absolve  her.  She 
had  never  had  any  respect  for  Lund, and  she  had  none 
now,  but  the  heart  in  distress  cries  out  to  the  nearest 
living  creature  at  hand,  even  though  that  creature  be 
a  dog.  The  brain  tired  out  with  fighting  its  own 
battles,  seeks  elsewhere  for  an  ally  to  buoy  up  its 


1 16  LUCKY. 

courage  a  day,  an  hour,  a  minute  longer;  recklessly, 
hopelessly  often,  as  a  drowning  man  clutches  at  a 
straw. 

Bub  Royster  came  home  a  little  later.  He  too  had 
been  searching  for  the  missing  girl,  but  had  waited  for 
a  chance  to  ride  from  the  Bend  with  a  neighbor, 
whereas  Lund  had  come  on  foot.  Bub  hated  Nana, 
and  but  for  the  urging  of  his  mother  and  Rose  Dolby, 
would  have  been  heartily  glad  to  let  her  go.  Joe 
Slocum  dropped  in  about  the  same  time  to  inquire  as 
to  the  success  of  the  search.  He  was  a  shrewd  man 
and  his  advice  was  of  much  service.  As  far  as  his 
knowledge  extended,  Joe  Slocum  was  not  bad.  He 
could  see  no  reason  why  Nana  should  have  anything 
against  him.  He  had  always  been  good  to  her,  and 
had  intended  to  make  her  a  kind  husband;  but  since 
she  had  taken  such  means  to  rid  herself  of  him,  he 
wished  he  had  let  her  have  her  own  way.  Aside  from 
his  admiration  for  Nana,  he  had  regarded  the  affair  as 
a  very  legitimate  business  transaction,  but  there  was 
still  man  enough  in  him  to  recognize  that  she  had 
some  right  to  think  in  the  matter,  now  that  she  had 
taken  it  in  defiance  of  circumstances. 

Of  Lund's  loss  and  sorrow,  we  need  not  speak.  It 
was  unvarnished  and  sincere. 

Rumor  had  spread  about  the  settlement  that  Lucky 
Fielding  had  gone  to  the  Upper  Missouri,  to  get  him- 
self a  wife.  Nevertheless,  he  returned  from  his  trip 
without  one,  determined  to  confess  the  object  of  his 
deception  to  Nana,  who  by  this  time  should  have  had 


AT   THE    ROYSTER    FARM.  1 17 

ample  opportunity  to  miss  him,  and  mend  her 
manners.  He  was  accustomed  to  easy  victories  in  all 
matters,  and  expected  the  same  thing  here.  His 
arrogance  soon  received  a  telling  blow.  Nana  had 
never  spoken  to  him  of  her  one-sided  engagement  to 
Joe  Slocum.  Since  her  entrance  into  young  woman- 
hood, it  had  become  but  a  dim  memory  to  her.  Lucky 
listened  in  utter  amazement  to  his  sister's  account  of 
Nana's  trouble  and  her  wildly  courageous  act;  then 
notwithstanding  all  former  quarrels,  he  repaired  to  the 
Royster's  to  inquire  more  fully  into  the  affair,  and  join 
them  in  their  endeavor  to  recover  the  missing  one. 

Lund  saw  him  coming,  and  met  him  at  the  door. 
They  shook  hands,  and  Lucky  was  conducted  forth- 
with into  the  midst  of  the  family  council.  He  was 
joyfully  received  by  Mrs.  Royster,  but  Bub's  greeting 
was  sullen  and  morose.  Lucky  did  not  care.  He 
sat  down  among  them  to  talk  the  matter  over. 

4 '  It  beats  me  how  the  kid  could  have  kept  out  o' 
sight  so  long,"  mused  Joe  Slocum  sadly.  "She 
hadn't  no  acquaintances  in  the  city,  had  she?  " 

"No,"  answered  Bub. 

"  Maybe  she's  dead,"  suggested  Mrs.  Royster  with 
a  wail. 

Bub  cried  down  this  idea.  Nana  was  a  girl  who 
could  look  out  for  herself.  Joe  Slocum  seconded  this 
confident  affirmation. 

"  It  is  a  sad  case,  a  sad  case,"  went  on  Slocum  in 
tones  of  apology  to  Lucky,  "but  I  can't  see  what 
we're  to  do.  We've  tried  everything." 


Il8  LUCKY. 

"Except  the  ounce  of  prevention,"  Lucky  was 
about  to  say,  but  checked  himself  as  he  recollected 
that  he  too  was  not  blameless  in  the  affair. 

"  Let's  advertise  again,"  suggested  Lund. 

"  'Twon't  do  any  good,"  said  Bub.  "And  adver- 
tisin'  costs  money." 

' '  Never  mind  the  money !  ' '  shrieked  Mrs.  Royster 
hysterically.  "  If  money  will  find  her,  use  it.  Take 
everything  I've  got  !  The  Lord  knows  it  wa'n't  my 
doin's.  I  did  as  well  by  the  girl  as  I  could — I  did  as 
well  as  I  knew  how." 

All  looked  at  her. 

"  Be  quiet,  mother,"  said  Bub. 

"  Who  said  you  was  to  blame?  "   Slocum  inquired. 

' '  I  can  tell  by  the  way  he  looks  at  me  that  he  thinks 
so  ! "  she  cried  indicating  Lucky  with  one  bony 
finger.  ' '  I  can  tell  by  the  way  they  look  at  me, ' ' 
with  a  scared  glance  in  the  direction  of  Slocum  and 
Lund. 

' '  Mother, ' '  said  Bub  savagely,  ' '  do  hush. ' ' 

"He  told  me  on  his  dyin'  bed,"  she  continued; 
"he  told  me,  but  I  didn't  heed — but  I  swear  I  hain't 
been  all  to  blame — I  hain't  been  all  to  blame  !  " 

All  eyes  were  riveted  upon  her  face,  the  features  of 
which  were  set  and  white  as  those  of  the  dead.  Pres- 
ently she  sank  on  her  knees  trembling  and  moaning: 

"O  God,  strike  me  dead — strike  me  dead  this 
minute — I  deserve  it,  but  I  hain't  been  all  to  blame!  " 

Consternation  reigned.  Joe  was  first  to  act.  He 
brought  a  cup  of  water  which  he  dashed  into  her  face, 


AT   THE    ROYSTER    FARM.  1 19 

then  called  the  girls,  and  Mrs.  Royster  was  carried 
away  still  raving,  and  protesting  her  innocence. 

' '  Never  let  the  women  into  anything, ' '  Bub 
growled.  "They  always  make  a  fuss.  We're  in  a 
bad  enough  mess  already  without  having  it  made 
worse. ' ' 

"She  shows  some  heart  though,"  said  Slocum, 
"and  that's  more'n  I  ever  give  her  credit  fur." 

A  renewed  search  for  Nana  was  immediately  begun. 
They  advertised  in  the  papers  again,  and  set  the 
police  to  work;  but  these  men  seemed  to  look  every- 
where but  in  the  right  place,  and  Nana  Meers  con- 
tinued to  follow  her  life  in  the  beautiful  suburbs  of  L, 
striving  to  forget  that  she  had  ever  been  anything  else 
than  pretty  Miss  Meers,  student  of  the  Palladian 
Academy  of  Art.  What  omniscient  policeman  would 
have  thought  of  looking  for  such  a  girl  there  ?  Nana 
was  changed  too,  for  she  no  longer  wore  her  hair  in 
curls,  and  her  brown  cotton  delaine  dress  and  sailor 
hat  had  long  since  been  consigned  to  the  flames. 
They  would  never  have  known  her,  at  any  rate;  and 
by  some  freak  of  the  goddess  who  presides  over  our 
destinies,  neither  she  nor  any  of  her  acquaintances 
had  come  across  the  notice  in  the  L  dailies,  inquiring 

for  information  concerning  her. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

It  was  midwinter.  Bub  Royster  had  gone  to  town 
for  the  mail,  and  Lucky  Fielding,  having  returned 
from  a  long  and  fruitless  search  for  Nana,  had  called 
at  the  Roysters'  to  talk  with  Lund,  not  because  he 


1 20  LUCKY. 

had  any  respect  for  the  fellow,  but  because  Lund  was 
the  only  one  who  seemed  to  regard  him  as  the  girl's 
best  friend.  It  pleased  Lucky  to  be  so  regarded,  no 
matter  from  what  source. 

As  they  sat  together  to-day,  Lund  made  a  startling 
confession. 

* '  I  loved  her, ' '  he  said  with  a  growing  light  on  his 
long,  gaunt  features.  ' '  I  loved  her  as  well,  likely,  as 
you.  I  didn't  know  how  to  show  it,  but  I  did  the 
best  I  could.  It  didn't  do  any  good,  and  it  never 
would.  She  loved  you.  You're  bright  and  hand- 
some, and  Vier  style.  She'd  never  think  of  marrying 
a  fellow  like  me." 

Lucky  was  touched  by  these  words.  He  felt  that 
he  ought  to  reply,  but  did  not  know  what  to  say;  so 
of  course  he  blundered. 

"  She  might  have,  Lund.     You  don't  know." 

"You're  a  tryin'  to  fool  me,"  Lund  returned. 
"You're  a  tryin'  to  be  kind,  and  I'm  much  obliged 
to  you.  But  I  know.  I  -love  the  little  *un,  and 
inany's  the  time  I've  thought  of  her,  and  prayed  to 
God  with  tears  in  my  eyes.  I  didn't  pray  for  what  I 
knew  couldn't  happen,  but  I  wished  the  angels  might 
have  a  kindly  eye  to  her  while  she  was  there  without 
friends  and  without  a  home.  And  I  wished  that  by 
and  by  she  might  be  found  and  brought  back  to  be 
your  wife,  Lucky,  for  I  know  she'  d  be  happy  so. ' ' 

Lucky  never  prayed.  He  had  faith  in  his  own 
strong  will,  his  indomitable  perseverance,  but  not  in 
prayer.  The  passing  years  had  almost  obliterated  the 


AT   THE    ROYSTER    FARM.  121 

religious  beliefs  of  his  boyhood.  He  no  longer  had 
trust  in  a  guiding  providence,  but  looked  upon  man 
as  a  creature  born  into  the  world  to  take  his  chances 
whatever  they  might  be.  He  did  not  deny  the  exist- 
ence of  a  supreme  being,  nor  of  a  life  hereafter;  but 
he  expected  no  reward  until  that  life  should  come, 
when  souls  stripped  of  the  fleshy  mold  that  holds  them 
imprisoned,  should  stand  free  of  all  environment  that 
tends  to  stunt  or  distort,  to  grow  into  shapes  divine  like 
unto  their  creator.  In  this,  Lucky  was  inconsistent  as 
we  all  are.  The  belief,  which  he  called  sensible  and 
liberal,  but  which  is  yet  open  to  attack  as  being  vision- 
ary, did  not  teach  him  charity  for  the  Roysters,  or 
else  he  was  willing  to  reserve  his  admiration  for  them 
until  the  time  should  come  when  they  should  deserve 
it.  The  fact  is,  he  did  not  spend  much  of  his  life 
looking  beyond  his  daily  duties.  They  surrounded 
him,  he  could  see  them,  they  were  realities.  Many  a 
time  of  late  he  had  been  discouraged,  and  even  now, 
he  felt  that  he  was  hoping  against  hope.  He  had  no 
more  respect  for  Lund  than  he  ever  had,  but  some- 
how as  he  surveyed  the  great  awkward  fellow  sitting 
there  in  the  hazy  light  of  the  winter  afternoon,  his 
haggard  face  bowed  upon  his  hands,  and  his  lank  form 
quaking  with  emotion,  Lucky 's  heart  softened  and  a 
mist  gathered  before  his  eyes.  He  held  out  his  hand. 
'  *  Old  man, ' '  he  said  with  more  warmth  in  his  voice 
than  was  his  wont  when  addressing  Lund,  "  you're  a 
trump.  To-morrow  we' 11  start  out  to  search  for  her 
again,  and  we'll  start  together." 


122  LUCKY. 

All  day  it  had  threatened  storm.  Bub  Royster 
had  not  yet  returned.  His  mother  was  filled  with 
anxiety  lest  it  should  overtake  him  on  his  way.  Lund 
and  Lucky  still  sat  by  the  fire,  talking  of  Nana  when 
a  mingled  rush  and  roar  fell  upon  their  ears,  the 
meaning  of  which  they  knew,  and  in  another  instant 
the  room  was  so  dark  that  they  could  scarcely  see 
each  other. 

"  I  wonder  if  he  can  be  out  in  this  ?  "  said  Lund,  as 
he  rose  to  light  a  lamp. 

Lucky  did  not  reply.  It  was  no  affair  of  his.  Bub 
Royster  was  at  liberty  to  take  care  of  himself,  as  far 
as  Lucky  was  concerned. 

There  were  a  few  fierce  puffs  of  wind  that  shook  the 
house  and  caused  the  shutters  to  rattle  with  a  dreary 
sound.  Then  the  storm  bore  down  steadily,  carrying 
the  snow,  which  had  lain  for  days  on  the  ground, 
before  it.  Rain  began  to  fall,  and  to  freeze  as  it  fell. 
Lund  shivered  as  he  listened  to  its  beating  against  the 
pane. 

Presently  Mrs.  Royster  entered  with  her  apron  over 
her  face. 

"  Oh,  my  boy,  my  boy  !  "  she  wailed.  "  You  that 
I've  toiled  and  suffered  for — you  that  I've  lied  and 
sinned  for — to  think  you've  got  to  die  like  this!" 
She  broke  into  a  fit  of  hysterical  sobbing. 

Lund  turned  to  Lucky.  (<  Pore  thing  !  "  he  said 
sympathetically. 

"  You  pity  her,  do  you?"  was  Lucky' s  incredulous 
retort. 


AT   THE   ROYSTER   FARM.  123 

"Yes,  I  do,"  returned  Lund,  "and  I'm  goin'  out 
to  see  if  he's  on  the  road.  It'll  ease  her  mind,  for  I 
can  find  my  way  around  the  country  better  than  most 
people,  I've  been  about  so  much  and  know  it  so  well. 
Besides,  he's  apt  not  to  be  quite  himself  after  he's 
been  to  town.  'Tain't  always  so,  but  sometimes." 

"  You're  a  fool,  Lund,"  said  Lucky.  "  Think  how 
bad  he's  treated  you." 

"Yes,  I  know  it,"  returned  Lund,  "I  know  it. 
I've  been  kicked  and  cussed  and  starved  by  him,  and 
I  know  it  would  serve  him  right,  but  I  can't  let  him 
die  out  there  like  a  dog,  with  his  mother's  cry  in'  in 
my  ears." 

Lund  got  his  ragged  overcoat  and  put  it  on  ;  turn- 
ing to  Lucky,  he  said : 

"  Maybe  I  shan't  come  back  alive,  and  if  I  don't, 
tell  her  I  loved  her  better'n  my  own  life,  and  would 
have  died  to  save  her  trouble."  After  which,  opening 
the  door,  he  plunged  out  into  the  storm,  muttering  to 
himself:  "  It  would  serve  him  right,  for  the  way  he's 
treated  her  and  the  way  he's  treated  me  ;  but  I  can't 
let  him  die  out  there  like  a  dog." 

On  he  stumbled,  through  snow-drifts  knee-deep, 
striking  now  and  then  a  hidden  wagon  rut  that  tripped 
and  almost  threw  him,  struggling  against  a  fierce 
wind  that  nearly  took  away  his  breath,  with  nothing  but 
instinct  to  guide  him  in  his  choice  of  route.  In  all  his 
twenty  years  of  life  on  the  prairie,  Lund  had  never 
seen  so  mad  a  storm,  yet  he  had  no  thought  of  turning 
back. 


124  LUCKY. 

He  had  traveled  about  two  miles,  when  the  wind, 
blowing  directly  in  his  face,  brought  to  him  a  sound 
which  was  something  like  a  groan.  He  quickened 
his  pace,  shouting  aloud  as  he  did  so,  but  the  wind 
carried  his  voice  in  an  opposite  direction. 

Then  his  feet  struck  against  some  object  in  his  path; 
stooping  over,  he  felt  with  numb  fingers  the  garments 
of  a  man. 

"Bub,  Bub  Royster!"  he  shouted,  shaking  the 
prostrate  form  with  all  the  strength  he  possessed, 
"  Here,  rouse  up  !  your  mother's  a  cryin'  her  heart 
out  for  you  at  home.  Come,  rouse  up  !  " 

After  much  effort  on  the  part  of  Lund,  Bub,  for  it 
was  he,  regained  interest  enough  in  life  to  struggle  to 
his  feet,  muttering  drowsily  meanwhile. 

"  Pity  you  can't  let  a  fellow  alone." 

' '  Do  you  know  where  you  be  ?  "  urged  Lund. 
"Come,  wake  up,  and  step  forward;  lively  now! 
Think  about  your  mother  and  Rose  Dolby — think  of 
Rose!" 

Thus  he  dragged  his  bitterest  enemy  along,  out  of 
the  very  jaws  of  death.  The  wind  had  shifted  about, 
and  blew  directly  in  his  face  again.  His  task  was  no 
easy  one.  Bub  hung  like  a  dead  weight  upon  him, 
he  felt  his  body  becoming  weary  with  its  prolonged 
effort,  and  the  storm  was  rapidly  increasing  in  fury. 

It  seemed  that  they  had  traveled  for  hours,  when 
Bub,  who  had  been  slowly  recovering  from  his  fit  of 
stupidity,  said  in  hopeless  tones: 

"It's  no  use.  We're  lost.  We  might  as  well  give 
up." 


AT   THE    ROYSTER    FARM.  125 

Lund  had  for  a  long  time  been  oppressed  with  the 
same  fear.  He  stood  still  for  a  moment  to  collect  his 
thoughts,  and,  peering  forward  in  the  blinding  snow, 
caught  the  red  gleam  of  a  light. 

"  Look  !  there's  a  house  !  "  he  cried  joyfully,  "and 
it  ain't  more'n  thirty  rods  away,  I'll  be  bound  !  Don't 
you  see  the  red  fire  through  the  window  ?  ' ' 

The  house  from  which  the  firelight  came  happened 
to  be  farmer  Dolby's.  It  was  Rose  who  welcomed 
them  at  the  door.  She  was  appalled  when  she  came 
to  know  how  near  her  lover  had  been  to  death,  and 
overjoyed  at  his  rescue.  More  fuel  was  thrown  upon 
the  fire,  which  blazed  up  invitingly.  Bub  was  imme- 
diately wrapped  in  soft  blankets,  and  lay  sipping  hot 
drinks  prepared  for  him  by  loving  hands. 

Lund  looked  yearningly  at  the  fire,  but  did  not  sit 
down.  The  Dolbys  pressed  him  to  stay, but  he  shook 
his  head. 

"  Take  care  o'  him.  He  needs  it  worse  than  me," 
he  said.  "  I  must  get  home  and  tell  his  mother.  She's 
nigh  gone  crazy  a  worryin'  over  him."  So  saying, 
he  lifted  the  latch,  and  in  spite  of  their  protests,  started 
for  home. 

"Do  you  suppose  anything  will  happen  to  him?" 
asked  Rose  breathlessly  when  he  had  disappeared 
from  sight  in  the  thick  of  the  flying  snow. 

"Never  fear,"  answered  Bub  carelessly.  "He 
knows  the  prairie  like  a  horse  does.  He'll  get  home 
all  right." 

Rose  brightened  at  this  hopeful  assurance,  and  in 


1 26  LUCKY. 

the  joy  of  her  lover's  society  soon  forgot  Lund. 

Meanwhile  Lund  was  plodding  along  in  the  snow. 
The  storm  showed  no  signs  of  abating.  The  wind 
shifted  rapidly  from  one  direction  to  another,  and  the 
drifts  piled  themselves  higher  and  higher  in  his  path. 

He  did  not  realize  that  he  was  cold.  Indeed,  he 
felt  very  warm  now.  A  little  fringe  of  icicles,  caused 
by  his  congealing  breath,  gathered  round  the  edge  of 
his  hat  and  on  his  eyelashes,  but  he  did  not  trouble 
himself  to  brush  them  away. 

As  he  tramped  on,  he  felt  his  limbs  grow  heavy,and 
a  sensation  of  drowsiness  crept  over  him.  The  feeling 
grew,  until  he  became  quite  dazed.  Finally  his  feet 
seemed  stationery,  and  he  felt  himself  gradually  sink- 
ing into  the  drifts.  He  struggled  feebly  for  a  moment 
to  extricate  himself,  then  lay  down,  thinking  to  rest 
and  get  breath  before  resuming  his  journey. 

The  snow  drifted  over  him,  and  he  went  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XL 
MRS.  STAR-HARTMAN. 

MR.  HARTMAN  was  becoming  dreamy  and 
abstracted.  As  the  girls  of  the  Academy  put 
it,  he  walked  with  his  head  in  the  clouds.  Ever  and 
again,  a  tender  smile  played  round  his  lips,  that  was 
not  for  anything  he  saw  or  heard.  Now  and  then  he 
was  absent  from  the  class  room,  and  Miss  Thatcher 
substituted  in  his  place.  It  was  whispered  among  the 
students  that  he  was  rehearsing  for  his  wedding,  which 
was  to  take  place  in  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church 
very  soon. 

Nana  listened  while  the  others  chattered  of  the  prep- 
arations, the  account  of  which  they  had  read  in  the 
society  papers,  where  even  the  mysteries  of  the 
designated  rehearsals  were  dragged  forth  to  pander  to 
the  public  appetite.  Nana  heard  with  an  indescribable 
sensation  of  spiritual  nausea.  Innocent,  and  full  of 
that  romance  known  chiefly  to  youth,  that  sentiment 
which  if  not  divine,  borders  closely  upon  divinity,  she 
felt  the  artificiality  of  the  proceeding  to  the  core.  It 
was  too  much  like  preparing  for  a  show,  she  thought. 
It  seemed  unworthy  of  a  man  like  Mr.  Hartman. 
Marriage  to  her  was  a  sacred  ordinance,  and  anything 
else  than  spontaneity  and  simplicity  attending  its 
details  was  a  profanation. 

127 


1 28  LUCKY. 

But  when  the  wedding  day  arrived,  the  excitement 
of  the  hour  possessed  her,  and  she  almost  forgot  her 
former  feelings.  She  received  her  invitation  to  be 
present  at  the  ceremony  along  with  the  other  students. 
She  had  expected  as  a  prot£g£e  of  Mrs.  Star,  an 
invitation  to  the  grand  ball  to  be  given  at  the  residence 
of  the  bride  in  the  evening,  but  none  came.  She 
wondered  at  this;  she  was  fond  of  dancing,  and  could 
dance  as  well  as  the  best.  Bernard  Star  was  an 
enthusiastic  admirer  of  hers  and  a  warm  friend.  Why 
had  she  received  no  card  ? 

Truly,  Bernard  Star  had  been  a  friend.  He  had 
sent  her  costly  bouquets  every  week,  and  had  called 
even  oftener  than  Nana  liked.  He  was  a  handsome 
fellow  worthy  the  brush  of  a  painter.  The  girls  at  the 
Academy  had  nick-named  him  "The  Adonis  in 
Broadcloth."  Yes,  he  was  very  fine  to  look  at,  and 
with  many  persons  his  physical  beauty  was  enough  to 
atone  for  his  quite  perceptible  weakness  of  character. 
Wealth  too,  covers  such  a  multitude  of  sins.  Bernard 
Star  was  considered  everywhere  a  "good  catch." 

Nana  was  not  worldly;  it  was  not  that  Bernard  Star 
was  rich  that  she  gave  him  a  thought.  She  was 
endeavoring  to  crush  out  her  old  love,  and  her  heart 
reached  forth  to  the  shadow  of  a  new  infatuation  as  a 
welcome  anodyne.  She  was  young,  and  if  she  ac- 
cepted the  attentions  of  Mrs.  Star's  son  in  this  spirit, 
who  can  blame  her? 

Nana  had  never  been  asked  to  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Star  except  for  private  interviews  with  that  lady. 


MRS.   STAR  -  HARTM AN.  I2g 

Mrs.  Star  was  even  ignorant  of  her  son's  regard  for 
the  girl.  He  knew  his  mother  and  was  afraid  of  her  and 
Nana's  name  had  never  passed  between  them.  Mrs. 
Star  had  undertaken  Nana's  education  because  Mr. 
Hartman  had  requested  her  to  do  so;  she  had  under- 
taken a  financial,  not  a  social  responsibility  and  she 
had  no  notion  of  undertaking  the  latter.  She  was  a 
social  queen  and  wanted  no  rival  in  her  little  world. 
If  she  were  jealous  of  Nana's  place  in  Mr.  Hartman' s 
regard  it  was  not  policy  to  show  it. 

The  wedding  was  gotten  through  very  satisfactorily. 
The  bride  was  lovely  enough  to  suit  the  most  fastidious 
critic,  and  the  bridegroom  was  proud  and  nervous  as 
bridegrooms  are  wont  to  be.  Nana  sat  in  her  seat 
with  tense  muscles,  watching  him  sympathetically  as 
the  ceremony  proceeded.  When  at  last  it  was  safely 
over,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hartman  had  entered  their 
carriage,  she  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 

She  had  hoped  up  to  the  time  the  grand  ball  began 
that  she  had  been  overlooked,  and  that  an  invitation 
and  apology  for  the  delay  would  yet  come.  She  was 
disappointed.  In  the  evening,  several  of  the  Academy 
girls  proposed  a  stroll  past  the  house  where  the  fes- 
tivities were  going  on,  as  sidewalk  room  could  not  be 
prohibited  them,  and  they  purposed  using  all  the 
privileges  they  possessed. 

Nana  scorned  the  idea  as  indelicate  and  common, but 
finally  her  curiosity  got  the  better  of  her  sense  of 
propriety,  and  she  consented  to  go. 

The  party  outside  was  not  a  whit  less  merry  than 


1 30  LUCKY. 

the  one  indoors.  They  promenaded  by  twos  up  and 
down  in  the  cool  air,  fanning  themselves  with  boughs 
picked  from  the  bride's  own  ornamental  trees.  They 
criticised  to  their  fill  each  coming  guest,  enjoyed  the 
lights  in  the  windows  and  on  the  lawn,  drank  in  the 
music  as  it  floated  across  the  garden,  and  let  their 
hearts  swell  with  the  measures,  just  as  if  they  had  a 
right.  The  abandon  was  delicious;  even  Nana 
forgot  herself  in  the  intoxication  of  it,  and  laughed  and 
talked  as  loudly  as  the  others.  Still  she  reproached 
herself  as  she  laid  her  head  upon  her  pillow  that  night. 
It  was  an  extremely  rude  and  improper  thing  to  do. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hartman  were  her  friends.  They  had 
simply  overlooked  her  in  sending  invitations,  and  she 
had  behaved  in  a  very  ungrateful  manner  towards 
them. 

A  week  or  so  after,  at  the  breakfast  table,  Bernard 
Star,  more  at  his  ease  than  usual  with  his  mother 
because  of  the  presence  of  Mr.  Hartman,  remarked  in 
his  lazy,  drawling  fashion: 

' '  Why  was  not  the  beautiful  Miss  Meers  at  the 
ball  ?  You  surely  invited  her,  mother?  " 

1 '  Indeed  I  did  not ! ' '  was  the  rather  sharp  reply. 

"Ah,"  the  son  continued,  "that  accounts  for  it;  I 
wondered  why  she  was  with  those  girls  who  were 
looking  on  from  the  street.  I  took  it  as  almost  an 
insult,  by  Jove,  but  now  I  don't  wonder." 

1 '  How  do  you  know  she  was  there  ?  ' ' 

' '  I  heard  her  laugh.  I  would  know  it  among  a 
thousand. ' ' 


MRS.  STAR-HARTMAN.  131 

"  Hum  !  I  was  not  aware  that  you  had  the  pleasure 
of  the  young  lady's  acquaintance.  Where  did  you 
meet  her,  pray  ?  "  with  a  sarcastic  smile. 

"Almost  anywhere  but  in  my  mother's  drawing- 
room.  Why  do  you  treat  her  so,  mother  ?  Are  you 
not  her  friend ?  Don't  you  admire  her?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not  and  I  trust  that  you,  Bernard,  will 
use  the  little  common  sense  you  have,  and  not  go  to 
falling  in  love  with  her  in  earnest.  If  you  have 
merely  carried  on  a  flirtation  with  her  somewhere  and 
somehow,  all  well  and  good;  I  hold  flirting  to  be  an 
innocent  amusement.  However,  you  must  make  up 
your  mind  to  break  it  off  at  once,  as  I  consider  her  a 
dangerous  person  to  tamper  with,  inasmuch  as  she  is 
apparently  so  fascinating  and  you  so  easily  led.  You 
must  make  a  match  that  will  not  shame  your  family. ' f 

Mr.  Hartman  looked  up  quickly.  He  was  begin- 
ning to  discover  a  new  phase  in  the  character  of  his 
charming  wife. 

"What  can  you  mean,  Sara?"  he  inquired.  "I 
certainly  thought  Miss  Meers  had  been  invited  to  the 
ball,  and  was  somewhat  hurt  because  she  did  not 
come." 

Mrs.  Hartman  shot  a  swift  glance  towards  her  lord 
and  master.  "Men  do  not  understand  women  as 
women  do  each  other,"  she  replied  dryly. 

"Can  you  not  be  more  explicit?  What  can  the 
child  have  done  to  deserve  ostracism  ?  " 

"  Child  ?  A  pretty  old  child  !  "  exclaimed  his  wife 
with  raised  brows. 


132  LUCKY. 

"She  is  only  seventeen,"  Mr.  Hartman  replied 
quietly. 

* '  Seventeen  !  She  is  twenty  if  a  day,  and  she  has 
the  worldly  wisdom  of  fifty.  She  reminds  me  of  an 
adventuress  in  a  play." 

Mr.  Hartman  paled  with  suppressed  anger.  His 
wife's  words  and  tone  were  disappointing  and  exasper- 
ating. It  was  the  first  time  he  had  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  sly  little  moth  that  had  eaten  into  the  white 
feathers  of  his  angel's  wing. 

"  I  insist  upon  less  enigmatical  statements,"  he  said 
emphatically,  rising  from  the  table  as  he  spoke.  "I 
thought  you  were  the  girl's  friend,  Sara." 

This  was  terrible  !  To  have  her  son' s  heart  ensnared 
was  bad  enough,  but  when  her  husband  began  to 
defend  a  woman  against  the  attack  of  her  tongue, 
matters  had  gone  entirely  too  far.  She  must  make  a 
telling  shot. 

"  I  have  promised  to  befriend  her  certainly,  dear," 
was  her  sweet  response.  ' '  You  discovered  her  talent 
and  naturally  I  wanted  to  please  and  aid  you.  But 
that  does  not  put  me  under  obligations  to  acknowledge 
socially  a  woman  of  whose  past  life  I  am  entirely 
ignorant. ' ' 

Mr.  Hartman  was  somewhat  appeased  by  the  softly 
flattering  tone  and  fondly  proud  smile  of  the  woman 
he  adored. 

"I  think  you  are  a  trifle  too  strict,  Sara,"  he 
replied  in  a  milder  voice.  "  Miss  Nana  has  little  past 
to  speak  of,  and  I  consider  her  one  of  the  most  simple 
and  honest  young  ladies  of  the  Academy." 


MRS.  STAR-HARTMAN.  133 

' '  But  you  must  own  that  she  is  not  refined.  How 
about  the  bad  breeding  she  exhibited  in  passing  up 
and  down  before  our  house  in  company  with  a  pack  of 
other  loud  creatures  the  night  of  our  wedding  ?  I  con- 
sider it  disgraceful,  and  should  I  introduce  her  to  our 
friends,  would  she  not  time  and  again  put  me  to 
shame?" 

"  Could  you  not  help  to  form  her  manners?  Is  not 
her  behavior  in  this  matter  to  which  you  refer  her  only 
offense?" 

' '  No  !  Not  by  any  means  !  News  was  brought 
me  several  months  ago  how  she  one  night  in  company 
with  a  person  of  questionable  position,  went  out  and 
peddled  newspapers  on  the  street." 

Mr.  Hartman  looked  sober  for  a  moment,  then 
resumed  the  defense  of  his  favorite  student. 

"  It  may  be  all  a  mistake.  It  is  all  a  mistake  I  feel 
certain.  Besides,  Sara,  if  the  girl  is  inclined  to  be 
erratic,  she  is  all  the  more  in  need  of  your  personal 
supervision — all  the  more  in  need  of  love  and  kind- 
ness. She  should  not  be  living  unchaperoned  in  a 
boarding-house.  Why  don't  you  bring  her  here,  and 
treat  her  as  a  daughter  ? ' ' 

Worse  and  worse  !  What  would  the  blind,  mis- 
guided man  suggest  next  ? 

' '  Really,  my  dear,  for  a  man  of  your  experience, 
your  ignorance  of  human  nature  is  astonishing.  You 
are  so  good  yourself  that  you  can  not  believe  ill  ot 
others.  /  train  the  girl  ?  She  would  not  allow  her- 
self to  be  trained.  She  has  a  most  ungovernable  tern- 


134  LUCKY. 

per,  depend  upon  it.  All  such  undisciplined  creatures 
have." 

"  Nevertheless  I  think  we  ought  to  try,  Sara,"  said 
Mr.  Hartman,  letting  his  hand  fall  caressingly  upon 
her  crispy,  golden  hair. 

Mrs.  Hartman  smiled  up  at  him  with  tears  in  her 
bright  little  eyes.  Her  last  sip  of  tea  had  gone  wrong 
in  her  gulp  of  desperate  indignation,  but  no  matter, 
the  tears  it  brought  would  serve  another  purpose. 

"I  will  promise,  to  please  you  dear,"  she  replied 
with  a  kiss. 

The  newspapers  escapade  had  been  reported  to 
Mrs.  Hartman  by  an  acquaintance  shortly  after  its 
occurrence,  but  that  lady  had  smiled  indulgently  and 
let  it  pass.  It  was  only  a  girlish  freak.  Now  how- 
ever, it  would  be  an  excellent  tool  in  her  hand,  for  she 
had  set  herself  about  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  the  girl 
and  anger  her  into  bad  behavior  that  she  might  have 
an  excuse  for  maintaining  the  position  she  had  taken 
with  regard  to  her  protegee.  She  accordingly  sum- 
moned Nana  to  her  at  once. 

11  What  is  this  I  hear?  "  she  began  in  a  high-keyed 
voice  freighted  with  displeasure.  * '  You  have  been 
betraying  my  confidence,  and  acting  both  ungratefully 
and  unbecomingly.  Mr.  Hartman  is  very  much  dis- 
pleased as  well  as  myself." 

4 'What  have  I  done?"  inquired  the  girl.  She 
had  in  her  surprise  quite  forgotten  her  behavior  the 
night  of  the  ball. 

'  *  What  have  you  not  done  ?  Miss  Meers,  I  thought 
that  you  were  a  lady." 


MRS.  STAR-HARTMAN.  1 35 

"  I  hope  I  am,  Mrs.  Hartman,  and  I  am  sorry  that 
I  have  done  anything  to  displease  either  you  or  Mr. 
Hartman." 

The  other  woman  sneered  slightly,  and  continued: 

"Is  it  the  mark  of  a  lady  to  go  past  the  houses  of 
her  benefactors  with  a  mob  of  loud  young  women 
creating  a  disturbance,  when  a  reception  is  going  on  ?  " 

Nana  flushed.  "  Indeed  Mrs.  Hartman,"  she  said, 
11 1  have  wished  again  and  again  that  I  had  not  done 
it,  though  the  young  ladies  with  whom  I  walked  were 
not  loud,  only  good-natured  and  so  full  of  life  that 
some  of  it  must  bubble  over.  They  meant  no  harm. 
They  did  not  know  they  were  disturbing  any  one. 
There  were  only  six  of  us. ' ' 

"And  six  too  many.  I  trust  that  I  shall  never  be 
obliged  to  complain  of  such  conduct  again,  or  really 
Miss  Meers,  if  I  should,  Mr.  Hartman  insists  that 
something  must  be  done.  He  said  he  was  afraid  that 
you  were  becoming  wild  and  in  need  of  strict  super- 
vision. ' ' 

Her  look  and  tone  would  have  incensed  a  less  spir- 
ited girl  than  Nana.  She  blushed  to  the  roots  of 
her  hair  feeling  how  unjust  was  the  accusation, 
but  she  said  nothing. 

"I  don't  wonder  you  hang  your  head  and  keep 
silent,"  her  tormentor  went  on. 

This  was  more  than  Nana  could  endure  without  a 
protest. 

"  I  think  you  are  very  unkind,  Mrs.  Hartman,"  she 
said.  "  Is  this  not  the  only  thing  I  have  been  guilty 
of?" 


136  LUCKY. 

' '  No, ' '  said  the  lady  impressively.  ' '  News  has 
lately  been  brought  me  that  you — you,  Miss  Meers 
were  seen  a  while  ago  in  company  with  a  low  person, 
peddling  newspapers  on  the  street.  Do  not  deny  it. 
I  have  it  on  good  authority." 

"I  do  not  deny  it,  only  I  will  say  that  I  did  not 
peddle  the  papers  and  that  I  was  not  in  any  low  com- 
pany. It  was  a  deed  of  kindness  to  a  little  sick  news- 
boy, not  my  idea,  but  that  of  the  lady  who  was  with 
me." 

1  'And  who,  pray  was  the — ahem — lady  ?  ' ' 

' c  Thalia  Sedling, ' '  Nana  replied  in  a  reverent  half 
whisper. 

"That  bold  creature!  That  actress!"  Mrs. 
Hartman  shrieked.  » 

"Mrs.  Hartman,"  said  Nana,  "  I  can  not  let  any- 
thing be  said  to  me  against  my  dead  friend, the  woman 
that  you,  least  of  all,  should  speak  ill  of." 

Mrs.  Hartman  winced.  "I  am  astonished, * '  she 
returned,  with  all  the  dignity  she  could  summon  up, 
"  I  am  astonished  Miss  Meers,  at  the  way  in  which 
you  talk  to  persons  who  are  older  than  you. ' ' 

"  I  can't  see  how  age  has  anything  to  do  with  it. 
We  are  all  bound  to  respect  the  dead,  and  I  will  say 
one  thing  more.  If  you  knew  Miss  Sedling  as  I  knew 
her,  you  could  not  fail  to  acknowledge,  if  you  were 
honest  about  it,  that  she  was  a  better  woman  than 
either  you  or  I." 

With  this  parting  fling,  Miss  Meers  turned  abruptly, 
and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
THALIA'S  OLD  STUDIO. 

MRS.  HARTMAN  was  only  fifteen  years  older 
than  her  handsome  son,  and  looked  almost  as 
young  and  fresh  as  he.  She  had  taken  life  easy,  and 
it  left  her  at  thirty-nine  plump  and  rosy,  with  the 
same  careless,  girlish  toss  of  head  that  had  captured 
the  hearts  of  many  a  luckless  swain  in  the  days  when 
the  city  of  L.  was  new.  She  was  her  mother's  daugh- 
ter, and  had  married  early  as  girls  in  new  countries 
where  women  are  scarce  are  apt  to  do,  the  man  who 
among  her  suitors  had  the  largest  bank  account.  He 
was  more  than  thrice  her  age,  and  she  was  early 
widowed.  Sorrow  sat  lightly  upon  her.  Tears  shed 
in  a  lace  handkerchief  lose  half  their  bitterness. 

The  widow  had  not  been  anxious  to  choose  a  sec- 
ond mate.  Her  weeds  were  becoming ;  she  had  all 
of  the  world's  goods  that  she  needed  ;  she  could  af- 
ford now,  she  told  herself,  to  wait  and  marry  for  love. 
She  was  surrounded  by  admirers  of  all  classes  whose 
adulation  was  even  more  sweet  to  her  than  that  of 
those  who  did  her  homage  when  she  was  a  debutante. 
With  some  persons,  capacity  for  enjoyment  increases 
with  the  years.  Mrs.  Star  was  one  of  these. 

Such  was  Sara,  the  social  goddess,  when  she  met 
Mr.  Hartman,  king  of  the  little  art  world  of  L.  Like 

137 


138  LUCKY. 

others  of  her  type,  she  was  easily  captivated  by  any- 
thing that  was  called  genius,  providing  it  was  coupled 
with  a  pleasing  personality.  Mr.  Hartman,  in  turn, 
was  fascinated  by  her  beauty  and  apparent  power,  her 
youthful  airs  that  were  so  refreshing,  her  artistic  gowns 
and  luxurious  atmosphere,  and  so  as  stories  usually 
end,  they  were  married. 

It  was  at  the  tea-table  the  evening  of  the  day  on 
which  Mrs.  Hartman  had  talked  with  Nana. 

"I  told  you  so  ! "  exclaimed  the  brilliant  lady  as 
she  met  her  husband's  inquiring  glance.  "  That  girl 
is  uncontrollable.  I  sent  for  her  this  afternoon  to  ad- 
vise with  her  in  a  friendly  way,  and  see  if  my  influence 
could  soften  her  in  any  degree,  but  she  met  me  like 
a  thunder  gust,  spat  fire  at  me  like  a  little  dragon. 
She  was  impertinent,  not  to  say  insulting."  Mrs. 
Star's  voice  failed  here.  She  sat  back  in  her  chair 
and  fanned  herself  vigorously. 

' '  What  did  she  say  Sara  ?  ' '  Mr.  Hartman  inquired 
gravely. 

' 'What  didn't  she  say?  Oh  that  I  should  ever 
have  been  born  to  listen  to  such  words  from  one  I've 
tried  to  help  !  She  accused  me  of  dishonesty,  of 
dishonesty,  Mr.  Hartman,  and  declared  that  the 
woman  who  sold  papers  on  the  street  with  her  was  a 
better  woman  than  I  ever  thought  of  being  ! ' '  Mrs. 
Hartman  closed  her  eyes  with  a  gasp  and  slight  shud- 
der. 

"  I  am  so  sensitive,"  she  continued  with  a  sigh. 
"  Poor  ma  used  to  say  that  I'd  never  live  to  see  forty, 


THALIA'S  OLD  STUDIO.  139 

things  affected  me  so.  I  wonder  the  little  hussy  didn't 
strike  me  in  the  face.  She  looked  as  though  she 
might  any  minute,  but  I  bore  up  bravely  and  said  my 
say  as  gently  as  I  could  under  the  circumstances.  I  have 
tried  to  help  the  girl,  I  have  indeed,  Mr.  Hartman. 
I  have  done  my  best,  I've  done  all  she'd  let  me  do  !  " 
She  plied  her  fan  again,  and  moaned  slightly. 

"Don't  distress  yourself  so,  my  dear,"  answered 
her  husband  with  sorrow  and  affection.  "  You  must 
eat  your  supper  and  so  must  I.  Let  us  dismiss  all 
unpleasant  topics  for  the  time.  Later  on  we'll  see 
what  can  be  done.  I  am  sorry,  I  am  truly  sorry  that 
I  should  have  been  mistaken  in  the  girl,  and  should 
have  urged  your  undertaking  in  the  first  place  any- 
thing that  could  perchance  turn  out  annoying  to  you. 
I  must  insist  on  her  making  you  a  proper  apology — " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Hartman,  do  not  be  rash  !  The  girl  will 
never  apologize.  She  would  die  in  the  street  first. 
They  all  would,  those  untrained  creatures.  I  have 
undertaken  to  educate  her  and  she  has  been  pampered, 
pampered  mind  you,  and  it  would  be  too  cruel  to 
throw  her  upon  the  world  after  that.  I  v/ill  still  be 
her  benefactoress,  but  I  must  insist  upon  placing 
money  in  the  bank  at  her  disposal,  and  allow  my 
lawyer  to  transact  all  business  between  us.  I  really 
can't  see  her  again — never  !  " 

'  *  How  generous  you  are  Sara, ' '  said  Mr.  Hartman, 
reaching  across  the  table  to  stroke  the  white  jeweled 
hand  that  was  busy  with  the  tea-cups.  His  wife  gave 
him  an  affectionate  smile,  and  peace  reigned  again  in 
the  Star- Hartman  establishment 


140  LUCKY. 

Bernard  Star,  who  had  been  sullenly  munching  a 
crust  of  dry  bread,  quite  indifferent  to  its  taste,  so 
that  it  kept  him  occupied,  looked  on  with  silent  dis- 
approval ;  but  he  was  afraid  of  his  mother  and  ven- 
tured not  a  word. 

Nana  had  gone  home  feeling  tired  and  old.  She 
had  walked  very  fast,  had  almost  run.  When  she 
caught  sight  of  her  white  face  and  glassy  eyes  in  the 
hall  mirror,  she  paused  a  moment  to  assure  herself 
that  the  reflection  was  really  hers,  after  which  she 
hurried  to  her  room  and  threw  herself  upon  a  couch  to 
think.  Think  !  Her  head  was  bursting  with  the 
surging  thoughts  that  jostled  one  another  in  her  brain. 
Life — what  was  its  object  ?  The  only  answer  to  that 
question  her  heart  would  give  seemed  to  be,  "  We 
are  born  to  suffer." 

She  had  been  ready  to  love  Mrs.  Star  as  a  mother. 
She  had  craved  her  love  and  guidance.  She  needed 
it.  She  had  never  known  a  mother's  love,  and  the 
hope  that  another  woman's  might  take  its  place  had 
been  very  sweet  to  her. 

Then  too,  she  was  under  obligations  to  Mrs.  Hart- 
man.  Her  weary  eyes  wandered  about  her  rooms. 
They  were  furnished  according  to  her  taste,  and  were 
everything  that  an  artistic  soul  could  wish  ;  but  she 
would  not,  could  not  keep  them  now.  How  could 
she? 

"  I  am  only  seventeen/'  she  said,  turning  heavily  on 
her  bed,  ' '  only  seventeen  yet  how  old  I  am  !  I  have 
lived  a  lifetime.  Oh  Louise,  Louise,  how  fortunate 
you  were  to  die  !  " 


THALIA'S  OLD  STUDIO.  141 

The  sound  of  her  dead  friend's  "  own  old  name" 
seemed  to  give  her  courage.  She  sat  up,  and  pushing 
back  the  hair  from  her  hot  forehead,  began  to  plan  for 
a  change  of  living.  She  knew  of  a  place  where  she 
could  get  orders  for  painting  Christmas  cards,  and 
now  and  then  a  design  for  a  fan  to  make.  She  could 
have  Miss  Sedling's  old,  undesirable  quarters  for  six 
dollars  per  month,  and  could  cook  her  own  food  as 
Thalia  had  done.  Perhaps  she  should  soon  die  as 
Thalia  did.  She  cared  little  what  became  of  her  ;  life 
was  too  disappointing  and  difficult. 

The  shadows  began  to  gather  in  the  room.  Nana 
did  not  realize  how  late  it  was.  She  let  an  hour  and 
a  half  more  go  by  without  stirring,and  was  very  much 
surprised  when  the  bell  in  the  town  hall  rang  out 
seven,  and  the  chambermaid  knocked  at  the  door  to 
ask  if  she  did  not  intend  coming  to  supper. 

Mrs.  Hartman  had  not  reckoned  the  strength  of  the 
mettle  with  which  she  had  to  deal.  On  the  following 
day,  Nana  sought  a  private  interview  with  the  husband 
of  the  great  lady,  her  old  instructor  and  friend.  He 
met  her  with  a  grave,  severe  face.  Nana  had  never 
looked  into  his  eyes  before  except  to  meet  a  smile. 
She  understood  the  situation. 

"  Mr.  Hartman,"  she  began  somewhat  timidly,  "  I 
have  something  to  say  to  you. ' ' 

' '  By  what  I  have  been  hearing,  I  should  judge  that 
you  ought  to  have,"  was  the  cold  reply. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  something,"  she  went  on,  her 
sense  of  justice  rising  to  help  her  in  that  trying 


142  LUCKY. 

moment.  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you  because  you  have 
been  a  friend,  and  I  care  for  your  good  opinion. 
What  I  have  to  say  may  do  no  good.  It  probably 
will  not;  but  I  want  to  know  if  you  are  aware  who  the 
woman  was  that  your  wife  objected  to  my  associating 
with,  the  one  who,  as  she  puts  it,  sold  papers  on  the 
street?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Mr.  Hartman.  "  I  judged 
by  what  I  heard  that  it  was  some  chance  acquaint- 
ance. ' ' 

"It  was  Thalia  Sedling." 

Mr.  Hartman  looked  up  with  a  start. 

"Impossible  !" 

"  No,  it  is  not  impossible.  You  know  and  I  know 
that  no  truer  heart  ever  beat  than  hers." 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  the  artist  softly. 

' '  She  carried  papers  to  nineteen  or  twenty  houses 
to  help  a  little  Irish  boy  who  was  ill  with  a  fever." 

Mr.  Hartman  looked  uneasy.  He  fingered  the 
cardboard  and  brushes  on  the  table  before  him  with 
nervous  hands. 

"Mrs.  Hartman  must  have  made  some  mistake," 
he  stammered.  "  She  was  probably  misinformed." 

"  She  made  no  mistake,"  said  Nana.  "  I  told  her 
who  my  companion  was  and  also  the  purpose  of  the 
act.  As  Thalia  herself  said,  it  was  not  a  ladylike  thing 
to  do.  The  refined  and  cultivated  way  to  dispose  of 
the  case  would  have  been  to  shed  a  few  tears  or  give 
the  little  fellow  a  penny  or  two,  and  after  that  leave 
him  to  lose  his  customers  and  starve." 


THALIA'S   OLD   STUDIO.  143 

Nana's  voice  rang  through  the  room  like  a  paean. 
Her  friend  was  dead  but  the  strength  of  her  spirit 
lived  in  the  girl  whose  life  she  had  helped  to  shape. 
Tears  gathered  in  her  instructor's  eyes.  The  deed 
and  the  words  were  so  like  Thalia  Sedling  that  he 
could  not  doubt  the  truth  of  the  story.  He  coughed 
to  help  cover  his  emotion. 

1 '  It  must  have  been  a  mistake — Mrs.  Hartman 
could  not  have  understood,"  he  repeated  helplessly. 

"She  did  understand.  I  told  her  plainly  enough 
for  anyone  to  understand.  Do  you  not  understand 
me  perfectly  ? ' ' 

"Yes." 

"Is  Mrs.  Hartman' s  understanding  less  acute  than 
yours  ?  ' ' 

"Ahem,  ahem!"  coughed  Mr.  Hartman.  "Indeed 
Miss  Nana,  don't  you  think  you  are  inclined  to  be  a 
trifle  hard  on  Mrs.  Hartman  ?  She  has  befriended 
you,  she  wishes  you  well.  She  was  very  much 
grieved  at  your  manner  and  words  yesterday  and — 
and—" 

1 '  What  was  my  manner  and  what  were  my  words  ?' ' 

Mr.  Hartman  hesitated  and  looked  perplexed. 

' '  What  were  my  words  ? ' '  Nana  repeated,  glaring 
at  him  like  an  irate  and  determined  Nemesis. 

'  *  Well — ahem  !  Didn'  t  you  accuse  her  of  being 
dishonest — and — ' ' 

"  It  is  false.  My  words  have  been  twisted  around 
to  make  a  better  story." 

' '  Ah — do  you  realize  Miss  Meers,  that  the  lady  of 


144  LUCKY. 

whom  you  are  speaking  is  my  wife  ?  Do  you  forget 
that  she  has  been  your  protectress?  What  possible 
wish  could  Mrs.  Hartman  have  to  injure  you  ?  ' ' 

"That  I  can  not  tell;  but  she  has  one." 

"As  I  said  before,  Mrs.  Hartman  was  very  much 
grieved.  But  she  is  willing  to  let  by-gones  be  by- 
gones and  forgive  you  if  there  is  indeed  anything  to 
forgive.  I  myself  do  not  doubt  that  there  has  been 
much  misunderstanding  all  around.  I  think  it  would 
be  better  to  let  it  all  pass.  Mrs.  Hartman  will  still  be 
your  friend.  She  told  me  last  night  that  she  would. 
She  is  very  generous  and — ' ' 

'  'And  one  thing  more  I  will  say, ' '  Nana  interrupted, 
' '  I  came  this  morning  chiefly  to  tell  you  that  Mrs. 
Hartman' s  generosity  will  not  be  taxed  any  more  by 
me.  I  have  found  employment  and  will  hereafter 
take  care  of  myself.  I  have  arranged  to  occupy 
Thalia  Sedling's  old  room,  with  the  same  privileges 
that  she  had,  and  will  move  my  few  belongings  there 
to-day.  The  things  purchased  with  Mrs.  Hartman' s 
money,  she  may  take  charge  of  or  leave  alone  as  she 
pleases.  I  shall  make  no  more  use  of  them." 

"Are  you — ahem  !  Are  you  not  a  trifle  hasty? 
Had  you  better  not  take  time  to  reflect  ?  Think  of 
the  life  you  are  choosing — one  full  of  disappointment 
and  deprivation.  Think  of  Miss  Sedling's  early 
death — "  here  something  choked  him,  and  Nana  was 
given  an  opportunity  to  answer. 

"  I  have  thought  of  it  all,  but  my  mind  will  never 
change. ' ' 


Night  found  Nana  duly  installed  in  the  little  bare 
room  once  occupied  by  the  one  whose  home  was  now 
the  white,  silent  city  of  countless  inhabitants.  The 
moon  looked  down  through  the  sky-light  upon  her 
uninviting  couch  in  the  corner.  There  was  the 
faded  little  curtain  behind  which  Thalia  had  kept  her 
small  oil  stove  and  cooking  utensils.  The  floor  had  a 
rag  mat  on  it,  and  but  for  that  was  wholly  uncovered. 
The  clicking  of  her  shoes  upon  the  wood  as  she 
walked  about,  filled  the  girl  with  loneliness.  The 
apartment  was  so  empty  and  still  that  it  seemed  alive 
with  echoes  made  by  the  sound  of  her  every  move- 
ment. She  had  half  expected  to  feel  the  old  dear 
influence  of  her  friend's  presence,  which  was  one  of 
her  chief  reasons  for  choosing  the  place;  but  it  was  not 
there,  the  comforting  superstition  was  dispelled,  and 
into  her  heart  crept  in  its  stead,  a  feeling  of  desolation 
for  which  the  echoes  showed  no  mercy. 

The  bread  of  freedom  was  not  sweet  to  Nana,  and 
the  tea  prepared  by  her  own  hands  was  insipid  and 
vile.  The  first  night  of  her  emancipation  was  not  a 
happy  one.  She  felt  no  thrills  of  joy  at  thought  of 
liberty.  She  saw  life  stretching  out  before  her  monot- 
onous and  blank.  She  had  not  Thalia  Sedling's  self- 
nurtured  stoicism  to  help  her  bear  it.  Her  coarse 
pillow-case  formed  the  acquaintance  of  salt  water  that 
night  if  it  had  never  before  known  the  lachrymal  fluid. 

All  night  she  listened  to  the  rumble  of  car-wheels 
and  whistle  of  engines,  for  the  house  in  which  she  had 
taken  up  her  abode  was  not  many  blocks  from  the 


146  LUCKY. 

railroad.  She  heard  the  town  clock  strike  every 
hour.  Just  as  the  day  began  to  break,  she  fell  asleep, 
and  was  awakened  about  eight  o'clock  by  a  rapping 
at  the  door,  and  a  voice  calling: 

* '  Miss  Sedling — I  would  say  Miss  Meers — the 
postman  has  been  here  and  has  left  two  letters." 

Nana  received  the  creamy  perfumed  envelopes,  and 
listlessly  broke  the  seals.  The  first  one  read: 

Nana,  my  dear  child,  we  were  all  mistaken.  My  husband 
has  thoroughly  investigated  matters  and  has  found  out  the 
exact  truth  of  the  story.  You  should  not  have  been  so  hasty, 
darling  girl.  I  know  it  was  the  result  of  your  impulsive 
nature,  or  I  should  never  forgive  your  last  step.  Come  back 
to  us.  We  cannot  do  without  you.  Can  you  do  without  us  ? 
Can  you  renounce  an  easy  path  to  your  desired  goal  ?  I  was 
just  contemplating  inviting  you  to  my  house  as  soon  as  your 
period  of  severe  study  should  be  over,  to  introduce  you  to 
society  as  my  daughter,  my  very  own  little  girl,  when  this 
dreadful  thing  occurred.  Will  you  not  consent  to  forget  it 
all,  as  we  all  wish  to  do  ? 

Your  loving  friend , 

SARA  HARTMAN. 

The  other  letter  was  addressed  in  a  long  effeminate 
hand.  It  was  from  Bernard  Star. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  MEERS  : — 

Jolly,  what  a  lark !  I  have  been  chuckling  for  an  hour 
over  it.  It  is  good  as  anything  I  ever  read  in  Puck,  by  Jove! 
The  mater  is  squelched  if  she  ever  was  in  her  sweet  life.  To- 
day, the  pater  came  home  stern  and  cold  as  an  icicle,  and 
told  her  in  firm  tones  that  she'd  made  a  mistake  about  you 
and  would  better  write  and  take  everything  back.  The 
mater  shed  tears  but  the  pater  remained  unmoved.  The 


THALIA'S  OLD  STUDIO.  147 

mater's  afraid  if  she  brings  you  to  the  house  I'll  marry  you, 
by  Jove,  and  she  is  right.  The  pater  is  a  trump  !  He  has 
good  strong  principles  and  I  admire  him,  with  all  my  soul, 
even  if  he  is  my  step  pa,  don't  you  know.  By  the  beard  of 
Mahomet  the  Just,  the  show  that  we  had  here  was  better 
than  a  base  ball  game.  The  mater  will  write  and  ask  you  to 
come  to  our  house  and  you  are  to  be  a  debunte,  and  what  a 
dear  little  one  you'll  make,  by  Jove.  But  I  shall  not  allow 
you  to  have  many  fellows  dangling  after  you,  even  if  I  have 
to  fight  a  duel  with  every  man  in  L.  Now,  Nana,  be  good, 
and  come  back  to  us.  You  showed  lots  of  pluck  by  leaving, 
and  I  admire  your  policy.  I  couldn't  believe  my  eyes  you 
had  so  much.  It  was  just  the  proper  thing  to  bring  them  to 
their  senses.  I  would  never  have  dared  to  go  on  loving  you 
if  the  mater  had  not  changed  her  key-note.  You  see  how  it 
would  have  been  all  round  if  things  had  not  come  about  just 
so.  I  should  have  had  to  be  miserable  all  my  life. 

There  is  going  to  be  a  Russian  Tea  at  the  Palladian  to- 
night as  I  suppose  you  are  aware.  I  will  send  you  some 
flowers,  and  meet  you  at  the  table.  Sorry  I  can't  come 
before,  but  I've  premised  a  fellow  to  go  fishing  this  afternoon, 
and  won't  be  back  till  late. 

Yours  forever  in  word  and  deed, 

BERNARD  STAR. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  CAMP  MEETING,  AND  WHAT  AN  OLD 
BOOK  TOLD. 

AT  the  Royster  farm  things  had  gone  on  as  usual 
with  but  few  variations.  Lund  lay  buried  out 
among  the  hills  he  loved  so  well.  Rose  Dolby  had 
been  made  happy  by  at  last  receiving  her  father's  con- 
sent to  her  marriage  with  Bub,  for  Mr.  Dolby  was 
touched  by  his  daughter's  loyalty,  and  had  given  in. 
Lucky  Fielding  went  about  haggard  and  hopeless. 
Ever  and  again  he  made  another  fruitless  excursion  to 
the  city;  not  the  slightest  clue  of  Nana  could  be  found. 

Time  served  only  to  strengthen  his  devotion.  She 
was  gone,  he  was  at  fault,  he  loved  her.  These  were 
the  thoughts  that  seldom  left  his  mind.  Was  she 
dead,  or  worse  than  that  was  she  alive  and  struggling 
under  burdens  too  hard  for  one  so  young  to  bear  ? 
Perhaps  by  this  time,  she  had  forgotten  him  and  loved 
some  one  else.  The  thought  was  bitter. 

As  he  sat  disconsolate  one  evening  in  the  gathering 
twilight,  he  thought  of  Lund,  and  wondered  how  she 
would  feel  did  she  know  the  fate  of  her  childhood's 
nearest  companion,  especially  did  she  know  how  he 
had  loved  her.  After  a  time,  Lucky  rose,  and  strolled 
listlessly  over  the  hills  to  the  lonely  mound  which 
marked  the  silent  dwelling  place  of  the  boy  whose  life 
had  been  meek  even  to  weakness.  Long  he  stood, 


THE   CAMP   MEETING.  149 

contemplating  the  narrow  rise  of  earth;  a  tear  gathered 
in  his  eye,  and  rolled  down  his  cheek.  At  length,  he 
turned  slowly  away,  and  started  back  home  by  the  old 
freight  road.  He  had  not  gone  far  when  the  sound  of 
voices  rang  out  loud  and  clear  singing  enthusiastically: 

"Follow,  follow,  I  will  follow  Jesus, 
Anywhere,  everywhere  I  will  follow  on." 

It  was  an  itinerant  religious  organization  known  as 
the  "Crusaders,"  who  had  pitched  its  tent  on  the 
hillside  and  was  calling  in  from  all  quarters  of  the 
settlement  both  scoffer  and  repentant  sinner,  the  one  to 
make  sport,  the  other  to  drink  in  with  thirsty  hearts 
the  good  news  brought  by  these  self-forgetting  evan- 
gelists. 

Lucky  had  not  intended  to  visit  their  meetings,  but 
finding  himself  thus  close  at  hand,  he  drew  near 
partly  from  curiosity,  and  partly  because  his  heart  was 
sad  from  loss  of  Nana  and  subdued  by  thoughts  of 
Lund. 

As  he  approached  the  tent,  he  saw  the  form  of  Rose 
Dolby,  her  face  bowed  upon  her  hands,  and  near  her 
knelt  Mrs.  Royster,  alternately  groaning  and  wiping 
the  tears  from  her  lusterless  eyes.  Bub  was  here, 
leaning  against  a  post,  his  countenance  hard  and  im- 
mobile. A  white- faced  girl  in  blue  gown  and  poke 
bonnet  was  pleading  with  him,  but  Bub  was  as  rigid  as 
Mahomet's  mountain. 

In  the  rear  of  the  tent,  another  blue-gowned  woman 
was  kneeling  by  the  side  of  a  particularly  sinful  man 
who  had  come  from  Elk  Bend  "to  see  the  show." 


I5O  LUCKY. 

He  was  a  frequenter  of  the  one  little  gambling  den  at 
the  Bend,  and  woe  to  any  man  who  took  a  hand 
against  him  in  "high  five."  Billy  Wonder  would  pay 
for  all  the  drinks, if  only  the  stakes  were  high  enough. 
This  woman  now  arose  and  spoke.  Her  voice  was  of 
a  pure  reverberant  quality,  and  as  it  thrilled  through 
the  tent,  Lucky  Fielding  bent  forward  listening 
eagerly. 

"  My  friends,  here  is  a  fellow-man  who  bids  me 
speak  for  him.  He  has  sinned  deeply  and  has  deeply 
repented.  He  is  not  ready  as  yet  to  declare  his  sal- 
vation, with  his  own  tongue,  but  bids  me  tell  you  that 
he  has  cast  all  his  burdens  at  the  feet  of  the  Lord,  and 
has  been  given  in  return  that  complete  rest  of  heart, 
that  peace  which  passeth  understanding.  Oh  my 
friends,  you  who  are  world-weary,  you  who  are  heavy 
laden  come  now,  and  like  our  happy  brother  here, 
take  upon  yourself  the  yoke  of  Him  who  was  meek 
and  lowly,  and  learn  how  easy  it  is  to  bear.  Why 
will  you  remain  troubled,  why  will  you  remain  over- 
burdened when  He  has  promised  to  bear  it  all  for  you, 
and  give  you  all  you  ask  of  Him  ?  '  Whatsoever  you 
ask  in  My  name  believing,  that  will  I  do,'  saith  the 
Lord." 

'  *  Praise  God  ! ' '  was  echoed  through  the  crowd, 
and  Lucky  awoke  from  a  moment  of  almost  absolute 
oblivion  to  surroundings,  to  find  himself  kneeling 
among  the  rest  with  this  prayer  surging  to  his  lips, 

"Oh  Lord,  I've  been  a  sinner,  I've  been  a  rank 
sinner,  but  from  this  day  forth,  I'll  be  a  better  man. 


THE   CAMP    MEETING.  151 

Forgive  me  if  you  can,  and  give  me  back  my  little 
girl." 

The  prayer  was  never  breathed  aloud,  for  at  this 
instant,  a  terrific  shriek  rose  from  one  corner  of  the 
tent;  looking  up,  he  saw  Mrs.  Royster  erect  and 
clinging  to  the  tent  ropes  with  one  hand,  while  the 
other  was  raised  beseechingly  to  heaven. 

"O  my  God!"  she  cried  in  agony,  "Spare  me 
just  a  little  while!  Spare  me, wicked  sinner  that  I  am, 
and  I'll  promise  that  I'll  tell  all— all !  " 

Every  eye  was  upon  her,  and  the  tent  was  still  as 
death.  Bub  was  beside  her  in  a  twinkling.  Loosing 
the  fiercely  clinging  hands,  he  muttered  something 
about  the  woman's  being  crazy,  and  bore  her  away 

like  a  child,  through  the  crowd  and  out  of  the  tent. 
*  #  *  %  *  * 

Whatever  else  the  meeting  may  have  done  for 
Lucky,  it  had  lifted  up  his  heart  and  renewed  his 
hope.  The  dusk  of  the  next  day  found  him  again  in 
the  city  following  his  quest.  His  search  was  not 
methodical  now  as  it  used  to  be.  He  asked  no  aid  of 
the  police.  Instead  of  watching  shop  doors  at  the 
end  of  working  hours,  or  those  of  churches  before  and 
after  service,  he  loitered  about  the  streets  at  random, 
scanning  the  faces  of  persons  he  met.  He  made  few 
inquiries.  They  had  never  done  any  good.  The 
unuttered  prayer  of  yesterday  kept  welling  up  in  his 
heart.  Now  and  then  he  smiled  bitterly  at  his  own 
folly.  '  *  Fool,  to  think  miracles  are  going  to  take 
place  in  an  American  city  near  the  end  of  the  nine- 


152  LUCKY. 

teenth  century  !  Such  things  were  for  another  age 
and  other  men.  Do  you  expect  to  bribe  God  to 
change  his  plans,  by  promises  of  future  goodness, 
fool?  What  will  your  prayers  amount  to  when 
Lund's  were  of  no  avail  ?  God  helps  those  who  help 
themselves.  Stop  this  nonsense,  and  have  some  aim 
and  reason  in  your  work. ' '  These  were  his  thoughts 
as  he  roamed  about.  When  he  first  entered  the 
streets  of  L.  that  day,  he  had  in  truth,  expected  to 
meet  Nana  face  to  face.  His  period  of  religious 
exaltation  began  to  wane,  and  he  laughed  now,  at 
what  he  called  his  superstition. 

Thus  he  had  been  walking  the  tiresome  streets  for 
about  three  hours,  when  he  fell  into  a  little  by-way,  a 
sort  of  connecting  link  between  two  more  business-like 
places.  He  was  beginning  to  feel  faint  from  hunger 
and  weariness,  and  to  wonder  concerning  the  shortest 
cut  to  some  comfortable  lodging-house,  when  he  came 
upon  a  little  rickety  old  building,  so  desolate  and 
tumble-down  even  beside  the  others,  that  he  felt 
almost  sorry  for  it;  with  its  rugged  storm-battered 
face,  it  looked  to  him  almost  human  in  its  wretched- 
ness. It  was  only  his  mood,  of  course,  that  made  it 
appear  so.  The  dim  light  of  a  gas-lamp  in  front  of  it 
fell  upon  the  sign : 

OLD  BOOKS, 

CHOICE   TEN   CENTS. 

Lucky  had  no  thought  of  purchasing,  but  moved  by 
his  innate  love  of  books,  he  began  to  turn  over  the 
dusty  volumes.  There  was  pne  of  an  unusually  inter- 


THE   CAMP   MEETING.  153 

esting  title.  He  picked  it  up  to  examine  its  pages, 
when  all  at  once  he  noticed  in  dim  penciling  on  one 
of  the  margins  a  handwriting  which  he  thought  he 
knew.  Holding  it  to  the  light,  he  studied  it  closely, 
and  by  perseverance  was  enabled  to  decipher  the 
characters.  It  was  the  name  and  address  of  Nana 
Meers. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  gruffly  inquired  the  owner 
of  the  store,  perceiving  the  length  of  Lucky' s  stay,  and 
beginning  to  grow  suspicious. 

"  Nothing,"  Lucky  replied  in  a  tone  that  sent  the 
unsophisticated  bookseller  into  a  spasm  of  blind  won- 
derment, "  Nothing  in  the  world." 

Lucky  did  not  take  time  to  consider  whether  this 
was  only  a  remarkable  coincidence,  or  an  indirect 
answer  to  his  prayer.  He  was  no  longer  tired,  no 
longer  hungry.  Like  a  newly  freed  prisoner,  he  sped 
over  the  ground  only  stopping  now  and  then  to  inquire 
the  way  of  some  astonished  denizen  of  the  side  streets 
in  which  he  so  often  found  himself.  Another  half- 
hour,  and  he  was  at  the  door  of  the  house  where  Nana 
had  lodged  after  her  departure  from  the  Bonds' ,  pre- 
vious to  her  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Star. 

' '  I  can' t  tell  you  where  she  lives  now, ' '  the  woman 
who  answered  his  ring  replied  to  his  eager  questioning. 
"Are  you  a  friend  of  hers  ?  " 

"Yes,"  Lucky  answered,  his  heart  sinking  again. 
*  *  I  am  an  old  friend  from  the  country.  I  haven' t 
seen  her  for  a  year  and  am  very  anxious.  Didn't  she 
tell  you  where  she  was  going?  " 


154  LUCKY. 

"She  did  but  I  forget.  Margaret,  Margaret!" 
she  called  turning  back  into  the  hall. 

A  young  woman  very  shortly  appeared  wrapped  in 
a  shawl.  She  had  a  wheezy  voice,  and  carried  a 
saucer  with  some  smoking  cubeb  berries  in  it.  She 
eyed  the  stranger  curiously. 

"Where  did  that  Miss  Meers  go  to  after  she  left 
here  ?  ' '  woman  number  one  asked. 

Woman  number  two  stared  at  Lucky  again,  and 
answered  with  much  hesitation: 

"Let  me  see.  I  have  forgotten  the  street  and 
number,  but  I  know  that  she's  gotten  rich  since. 
She's  been  adopted  by  some  wealthy  lady,  I  believe. 
She's  been  studying  to  be  an  artist  down  at  the  Palla- 
dian  Academy,  corner  of  K  and  Fifth  Street.  You 
are  a  friend  of  hers  from  somewhere,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  an  old  friend." 

"You  wouldn't  know  her  now  I  guess.  I've  heard 
she's  become  quite  a  lady,"  the  woman  continued, 
plainly  evincing  her  eager  delight  in  watching  the 
changes  of  expression  that  swept  one  after  another 
over  Lucky' s  countenance.  In  an  instant,  she  had 
read  the  story,  and  was  smacking  her  intellectual  lips 
over  it,  with  the  keen  relish  of  a  mental  savant.  What 
after  all  is  gossip  ?  Just  a  supply  originated  to  fill  the 
demand  of  the  soul  for  morsels  of  life.  Let  no  one 
deny  his  appetite  for  it.  It  is  moral  salt.  That  it 
may  be  taken  in  too  large  quantities  for  the  health  is 
true,  as  it  is  with  other  condiments. 

"  You  might  go  down  to  the  Academy,and  inquire. 


THE   CAMP   MEETING.  155 

They  sometimes  have  night  classes  I  believe,  and 
somebody  there,  perhaps,  could  tell  you  where  she 
lives  now."  She  almost  wished  she  could  ask  him  to 
come  back  and  let  her  know  the  result,  but  she  dared 
not. 

Lucky  turned  away  not  half  so  light  of  heart  and 
foot  as  he  had  come,  to  seek  the  art  building  on  the 
corner  of  K  and  Fifth  Street,  as  directed.  Nana  had 
become  rich  !  She  was  now  quite  a  lady  !  How 
would  she  receive  him,  the  friend  of  her  less  pros- 
perous days  ?  She  probably  had  lovers  by  the  score. 
He  would  see  her  at  any  rate,  assure  himself  of  her 
•happiness,  then  if  all  were  well  he  would  go  back  to 
Elk  Bend  and  try  to  rejoice  in  her  good  fortune.  It 
was  better  than  to  find  her  dead  or  suffering,  at  any  rate. 

When  he  reached  the  Academy  he  found  it  ablaze 
with  light,  for  the  Russian  Tea  was  in  progress. 
Sounds  of  music  and  dancing  issued  from  the 
windows.  As  Lucky  paused  before  the  street  door, 
which  stood  ajar,  he  saw  a  lady  and  gentleman  de- 
scend the  hall  stair.  There  was  something  familiar, 
yet  unfamiliar  about  her.  Was  it  Nana?  It  was 
taller  than  Nana,  but — yes  it  was  she. 

They  stood  underneath  the  great  chandelier  in  the 
hall.  She  spoke  and  smiled  up  at  her  escort,  who 
took  her  hand  and  began  to  fasten  her  glove.  He 
plucked  a  rose  from  her  corsage,  and  they  both  laughed 
at  something  he  said  about  it,  after  which  they  de- 
scended to  the  street  and  passed  on.  Lucky  had 
only  intended  to  look  at  her  and  go  away,  but  he 


156  LUCKY. 

could  not  bring  himself  to  do  it.  He  could  not  let 
her  go  yet.  He  must  keep  her  in  sight  a  little  while 
longer,  then  he  would  leave  her  and  return  home 
alone.  He  dropped  in  behind  the  couple,  and  fol- 
lowed them. 

They  had  reached  a  small  building  surrounded  by  a 
picket  fence,  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city.  A  pale  light 
gleamed  from  one  of  the  upper  windows.  "That  is 
my  studio,"  Lucky  heard  Nana  say. 

"  Deuced  bad  looking  place.  You  mustn't  stay 
there  long,"  said  her  escort.  "  Do  you  intend  to  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  Nana  answered  somewhat  sadly. 

Her  hand  was  upon  the  gate,  but  she  was  prevented 
from  opening  it  by  her  companion,  who  put  his  arm 
about  her,  and  drew  her  to  him.  This  was  too  much  for 
Lucky.  Forgetting  all  his  good  resolutions,  he 
stepped  out  of  the  darkness,  and  stood  before  them. 

"And  this  is  what  I've  spent  days  and  nights  the 
past  year  searching  for  ! — Nana  ! ' ' 

They  looked  at  him,  the  one  in  surprise,  the  other 
in  blank  amazement,  but  not  for  long.  There  was  an 
expression  of  mingled  love  and  pain  in  Lucky' s  face 
that  was  unmistakable.  Nana  did  not  wait  to  weigh 
pros  and  cons,  or  to  think  of  the  wife  he  was  to  have 
brought  from  the  Upper  Missouri.  All  that  she 
remembered  was  that  he  was  there  and  that  she  loved 
him.  Releasing  herself  from  Bernard  Star's  embrace, 
she  ran  to  Lucky  with  outstretched  hands. 

"  Oh,  Lucky  !  "  she  cried  sobbingly,  "  I  love  you, 
I  love  only  you  !  Life  is  dreary,  everything  is  dreary 
— take  me  home  !  " 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ALL  THINGS  COME  ROUND   TO   HIM  WHO 
WILL  BUT  WAIT. 

MRS.  ROYSTER  had  astonished  the  settlement. 
She  had  told  a  story  which  had  set  tongues  to 
wagging  with  unwonted  velocity.  She  had  had  dreams 
and  visions,  she  said.  Her  dead  husband  had  ap- 
peared to  her,  and  commanded  her  to  reveal  all;  so 
it  gradually  came  out  that  all  the  Roysters  possessed 
in  the  world  was  not  theirs  by  right,  but  the  property 
of  Nana  Meers. 

Mr.  Meers  had  been  a  scholarly  man  of  very  reticent 
manners  not  conducive  to  close  friendships.  He  had 
kept  a  very  good  establishment  in  Philadelphia,  and 
Royster  had  been  his  hostler  and  choreman.  When 
Nana's  mother  had  died,  she,  Jane  Royster,  had  served 
as  nurse,  as  she  also  did  when  Mr.  Meers  lay  upon 
his  death  bed.  His  decease  was  sudden  and  unex- 
pected, but  they  had  no  hand  in  that,  the  woman 
vowed  with  groans  and  sobs.  His  ailment  was  pneu- 
monia, and  the  doctor  who  attended  him  could  swear 
that  he  died  a  natural  death.  What  Royster  did  do 
was  this;  he  forged  papers  conveying  the  dying  man's 
property  and  even  the  custody  of  his  only  child  to 
* '  my  trusted  servants,  Robert  Royster  and  wife. ' ' 
Mr.  Meers  had  no  relatives,  so  the  scheme  prospered. 

J57 


1 58  LUCKY. 

The  arrangement  seemed  as  suitable  as  any,  to  lookers- 
on.  The  child  might  have  fallen  into  worse  hands  was 
the  comment  of  acquaintances. 

To  avoid  any  questioning  that  might  chance  to 
occur  in  the  future,  they  had  as  soon  as  possible, 
moved  west,  taking  the  child  with  them.  They  had 
kept  her  in  ignorance  of  her  birth,  but  she  had  always 
been  an  unwelcome  reminder  of  their  guilt.  They 
hated  her  for  this  reason,  and  treated  her  accordingly. 

By  and  by,  they  had  purchased  the  dairy  farm  and 
prairie  adjoining,  and  as  time  went  on,  they  began  to 
forget  that  their  means  of  subsistence  was  ill-gotten. 
Nana  came  to  be  looked  upon  as  an  interloper,  and 
they  had  been  only  too  ready  to  accept  Joe  Slocum's 
overtures  when  he  signified  his  desire  to  marry  the 
girl,  especially  since  he  was  willing  to  pay  for  her  keep 
while  growing  up.  This  was  Mrs.  Royster's  con- 
fession. 

Bub  averred  that  his  mother's  mind  was  failing,  and 
had  her  locked  up  in  an  upper  room  of  the  house. 
There  were  no  proofs  against  him,  only  a  crazy 
woman's  word,  yet  all  the  neighbors  believed  him 
guilty,  and  Bub  soon  found  himself  on  the  verge  of 
ostracism. 

Out  under  the  eaves  of  her  father's  house  in  the 
cool  of  the  evening,  Rose  Dolby  sat  and  sewed.  Her 
work  was  a  very  interesting  garment  of  fleecy  white; 
but  her  face  was  sad  for  the  face  of  one  whose  fingers 
were  busy  with  the  seams  of  her  own  wedding  gown. 

Through  the  lively  discussion  going  on  everywhere 


ALL   THINGS    COME    TO    HIM    WHO    WAITS.       159 

concerning  her  lover,  Rose  had  been  singularly  quiet 
and  had  proceeded  as  before  with  the  preparations 
for  her  marriage.  She  was  as  much  talked  of  as 
Bub,  and  now  and  then,  on  her  occasional  visits  to 
town,  she  was  stared  at  and  pointed  out  as  ' '  that 
Dolby  girl,  the  one  who  is  going  to  marry  that  Roy- 
ster." 

If  all  this  hurt  her,  she  showed  no  sign,  and  even 
her  mother  dared  not  question  her  on  the  subject. 

The  sun  went  down,  and  across  the  marshes,  came 
Bub  to  call  upon  his  betrothed.  She  had  sent  for  him 
that  afternoon.  She  responded  composedly  to  his 
rather  sheepish  "  Good-even,"  and  requested  him  to 
sit  down  by  her  side.  There  was  a  long  silence 
during  which  he  fidgeted,  and  fumbled  his  hat  brim 
while  Rose  remained  calm  and  self-possessed.  At 
length  Bub  spoke: 

' '  Now  Rose,  what  on  earth  do  you  want  of  me  ?  ' ' 

"I've   talked   to   you  before,  Bub,"  she  answered 

quietly,  "  and  I  want  to  know  what  you  have  done, or 

what  you  intend  to  do.     Have  you  made  it  all  right 

with  Nana  Meers?" 

"  Hain't  done  nothin'  to  Nane,  have  I  ?  " 
"  Bub,"  went  on  the  girl  in  a  firm  voice,  "  I  have 
loved  you  a  long  time  and  have  trusted  you  even  when 
other  folks  told  me  I  was  wrong.  I  never  believed 
any  of  the  stories  about  you,  but  this  one  I  must 
believe.  I  can't  cheat  myself  into  thinking  you're 
innocent.  I  can't  believe  you've  done  right  by  your 
poor  mother  to  call  her  crazy  and  lock  her  up.  Oh 


160  LUCKY. 

Bub,  won't  you  for  my  sake  do  the  right  thing  ?  Give 
Nana  what  belongs  to  her,  and  let's  be  happy  !  " 

" Curse  the  girl  !"  growled  Bub.  "I  wish  she'd 
never  been  born.  She's  kicked  up  a  hulabaloo  all  her 
life,  and  is  likely  to  go  on  in  the  same  way  till  she 
dies." 

Rose  looked  at  him  with  cold  critical  eyes. 

1  *  Do  you  intend  to  make  it  all  right  ?  ' '  she  asked 
almost  sternly. 

"And  make  a  beggar  of  myself?  " 

"  Yes,  if  it  is  the  right  thing  to  do,  and  I  believe  in 
my  heart  it  is." 

"Now  look  here,  Rose,"  argued  Bub,  "what  if  the 
money  in  the  first  place  did  belong  to  Nana's  father? 
Who  is  it  that's  improved  the  farm  and  made  it  worth 
something,  and  who  has  housed  and  fed  her  ?  Why, 
we've  earned  the  farm  and  things  six  times  over  by 
the  trouble  she's  caused  the  past  year,  the  vixen  !  " 

1  'And  whose  fault  was  it  that  she  made  the  trouble  ? 
Who  gave  you  the  right  to  sell  her  to  Joe  Slocum  ? 
For  it  was  just  the  same  as  selling  as  I  see  it. ' ' 

Bub  cringed  for  an  instant,  then  stood  up  and 
glowered  at  Rose  with  all  his  might.  She  was 
becoming  domineering  and  needed  to  be  taught  her 
place.  A  woman  often  did. 

"  I  won't  do  it,"  he  said  in  blustering  tones,  "  not 
for  you  nor  any  other  woman.  You  think  you've  got 
me  under  your  thumb,  but  we'll  see." 

He  was  scarcely  prepared  for  Rose's  firm  reply. 

"  Then  we  must  part,  Bub," 


ALL   THINGS   COME   TO   HIM   WHO   WAITS.      l6l 

"Well,  part  it  is  then,"  he  retorted,  and  turning 
his  back  upon  the  Dolby  house,  shuffled  off,  expecting 
fully,  however,  to  be  called  back  before  he  should  get 
out  of  hearing;  he  had  so  long  been  accustomed  to 
Rose's  forgiving  tenderness. 

This  time  he  was  mistaken.  Rose  watched  him  out 
of  sight  with  set,  determined  lips.  Presently  her 
mother  joined  her,  and  questioned  softly: 

l(  How  much  more  to  sew,  dear?  " 

Rose  answered  wearily: 

"  I  think,  mother,  I  won't  sew  any  more.     I'll  put 
this  dress  away.     Somehow,  since  the  day  pa  brought 
it  home,  I've  thought  I'd  never  wear  it.    You  remem- 
ber the  time,  mother.     That  was  his  loving  way  of 
consenting  to  our  marriage,  mine  and  Bub's.     But  1 
wasn't  happy  as  I  expected  to  be.     There's  lots  of 
tears  wrapped  up  in  that  sewing  that  no  one  knows  of. 
Mother,  Bub  has  been  here  and  I've  sent  him  home. 
We'll  never  be  married  at  all  unless — unless  he  should 
make  up  his  mind  to  do  the  right  thing." 

Rose  had  risen  to  her  feet.  Her  mother  took  her 
cold  hands. 

"You  have  done  right,  Rose,"  she  whispered, 
"  My  brave  child,  you  have  done  right." 

Rose's  countenance  changed  in  an  instant.  It  be- 
came hard  and  deadly  white,  and  before  her  mother 
could  utter  another  word,  she  had  fallen  limply  to  the 
ground  burying  her  face  in  her  wedding  dress. 

"Don't  speak  to  me!"  she  shrieked  sobbingly. 
"  Don't  say  a  word!  I  loved  him.  God  only  knows 


1 62  LUCKY. 

how   I   loved   him.     It's  no  small  thing  to  me,  and 

praise  ain't  any  comfort.     Don't  say  a  word  to  me  !  " 

****** 

Lucky  Fielding  had  seen  Bub  Royster  cross  the 
swamp  to  farmer  Dolby's  house,  and  an  idea  had 
entered  his  mind  which  he  soon  hastened  to  put  into 
execution;  going  into  the  machine-shed,  he  brought 
out  the  hide  of  an  ox  newly  cured,  to  which  head  and 
horns  were  still  attached. 

4 'Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Nana,  now  his 
wife,  as  she  espied  him  walking  off  with  the  queer 
bundle  under  his  arm, chuckling  to  himself  meanwhile. 

"  Oh,  just  to  have  a  little  fun  with  Bub  Royster," 
was  the  careless  reply,  and  Lucky  strode  away  in  the 
direction  of  the  swamps  before  Nana  could  protest. 

It  had  grown  quite  dark  when  Bub  began  to  make 
his  way  across  the  swamps.  He  was  stalking  along 
morosely,  his  head  fallen  upon  his  chest,  when  he 
heard  the  sound  of  deep  breathing  at  his  side,  and 
looking  up,  he  saw  a  sight  that  caused  a  chill  to  seize 
the  roots  of  his  hair. 

A  great  hairy  monster  with  long  tail  and  wide- 
spreading  horns  stood  there  close  enough  to  touch. 
Bub's  superstitious  fear  augmented  the  horror  of  it. 
He  would  have  fled,  but  the  thing  spoke,  and  Bub,  in 
his  great  fright,  felt  his  feet  rooted  to  the  spot. 

"  Stop!  Bub  Royster,"  said  the  thing  in  sepulchral 
tones,  such  as  Bub  had  never  before  heard.  M  Stop; 
there's  a  little  business  matter  that  you  and  I  must 
settle  before  either  of  us  is  a  day  older.  I  regret  to 


ALL    THINGS    COME    TO    HIM    WHO    WAITS.       163 

say  that  I  haven't  a  card  about  me,  but  my  name  if 
you  care  to  know,  is  Satan.  We  haven't  had  any 
previous  acquaintance,  but  you've  heard  of  me,  and 
I've  heard  of  you,  so  there's  little  use  to  stand  on 
ceremony.  You  know,  Bub  Royster  that  you  are  a 
bad  lot.  Well,  I'm  the  man  that  settles  all  points 
that  legal  processes  can't  reach,  and  I'm  here  to  have 
it  out  with  you.  Are  you  ready  for  me  ?  " 

Bub's  teeth  chattered  so  that  he  could  not  speak. 

"Come  now,  no  dallying!"  it  went  on.  "I'm  a 
man  of  business, and  can't  waste  my  time  on  snivelling 
little  atoms  of  humanity  like  you.  Are  you  going  to 
settle  up  this  little  muddle  you've  gotten  into,  in  the 
right  manner,  or  shall  I  take  you  to  roast  for  my  Sun- 
day dinner  ?  ' ' 

Bub  Royster  trembled  so  that  he  could  scarcely 
move,  but  finally  managed  to  sink  upon  his  knees 
before  the  thing,  and,  raising  his  hands  in  supplication, 
to  exclaim: 

"  Oh  Satan,  oh,  good  Mr.  Satan,  let  me  go  !  I'll 
be  a  better  man  from  this  time  on.  I  swear  I  will.  I'll 
give  Nane  Meers  the  dairy  form  and  all  the  stuff,  and 
I'll  let  my  mother  out.  It  wa'n't  no  lie,  she  told  ;  it 
was  gospel  truth,  and  I'll  fix  it  up  all  right  if  you'll 
only  try  me  again.' ' 

"Thank  you,"  replied  the  apparition  with  dignity. 
"  Do  as  you  say,  and  I'll  not  trouble  you,  but  remem- 
ber that  I  shall  keep  an  eye  on  you,  and  if  things  are 
not  quite  satisfactory  to  my  mind,  you'll  hear  from  me 
again." 


164  LUCKY. 

With  this  it  withdrew  into  a  clump  of  alders  near 
at  hand,  and  Bub  was  left  to  pick  his  way  over  the 
marshes  still  trembling  and  starting  every  time  the 
rushes  stirred,  or  a  wary  frog  leaped  into  its  home 
pool  at  his  approach.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  later, 
found  Lucky  Fielding  relating  to  Nana,  in  the  midst  of 
smothered  chuckles,  his  success  in  the  r61e  of  Beelze- 
bub's master. 

#  #  #  #  *  # 

It  .was  a  bright,  clear  day  in  the  early  spring.  The 
hills,  from  which  the  dead  grass  of  the  year  previous 
had  been  newly  burned,  were  rich  with  mottled  purple 
and  faint  green. 

"  Who  says  we  have  no  beauty  of  landscape  here?" 
said  Nana.  ' '  Who  speaks  of  our  prairies  as  bleak 
and  uninteresting  ?  Look  !  every  square  yard  of  earth 
is  of  a  different  hue.  Lucky,  how  many  shades  of 
purple  do  you  see  on  that  hill  ?  ' ' 

"It  looks  all  the  same  to  me,"  Lucky  vowed  at 
first.  "  But  no,"  he  added  after  further  scrutiny; 
"  you  are  right,  you  are  right,  little  one.  There's  no 
less  than  a  dozen,  though  I  never  thought  enough 
about  it  to  notice  them  before.  Upon  my  word,  what 
a  girl  you  are,  Nana." 

' '  So  it  is  in  life, ' r  went  on  the  little  philosopher. 
"  We  must  look  many  times  before  we  can  see  the 
real  beauty  of  some  people. ' ' 

They  were  ascending  by  the  broad  track  of  the 
great  freight  road,  the  hill  on  the  opposite  side  of 
which,  Lund  lay  in  his  long  slumber.  Lucky  was 


ALL   THINGS    COME   TO    HIM    WHO    WAITS.       165 

happy,  even  gay.  He  had  scored  some  very  brilliant 
successes  politically  of  late,  and  the  district  had  begun 
to  talk  of  him  as  the  future  member  of  the  House  in 
the  State  Legislature.  He  was  a  general  favorite,  and 
the  career  which  his  ambition  craved  seemed  already 
within  his  grasp.  By  his  side  she  too,  would  shine, 
his  beautiful,  talented  wife,  augmenting  his  glory. 
His  thoughts  were  more  of  himself  than  of  the  quiet 
sleeper  beyond. 

"Well,  Bub  and  Rose  are  married  by  this  time," 
he  remarked  carelessly  as  they  walked  along;  "it's 
almost  four  o'clock,  and  you  said  the  ceremony  was 
to  be  at  half  past  three.  He  can't  be  the  hero  he 
used  to  be  in  her  eyes.  I  wonder  that  she  marries 
him.  She  could  have  done  better.  That's  what  the 
Hartmans  might  have  said  of  you,  eh  Nana?  But 
then  as  to  poor  Rose,  she  loved  the  fellow,  as  you  do 
me,  perhaps,  and  since  she  can't  have  him  with  the 
halo  that  she  used  to  see  around  his  head,  she'll  take 
what  she  can  get,  and  try  to  imagine  the  rest." 

"It  is  often  so,"  Nana  responded.  "But  do  you 
remember  what  Mrs.  Browning  says  about  such 
things  ?  *  God  keeps  a  niche  in  heaven  to  hold  our 
idols,  albeit  he  break  them  to  our  faces,  and  deny  that 
our  close  kisses  shall  impair  their  white.'  ' 

' '  We  don' t  have  to  wait  so  long  as  that  for  our  suc- 
cess and  happiness,  do  we  ?  Only  to  think  of  the  good 
fortune  coming  to  us  !  I'm  certain  to  be  elected,  and 
you'll  come  out  in  the  finest  gowns  any  one  ever  saw. 
Mrs.  Hartmanand  that  Bernard  Star  will  open  their  eyes, 


1 66  LUCKY. 

I'm  thinking,  when  they  see  you  the  wife  of  a  states- 
man, instead  of  the  stupid  farmer  they  fancy  you've 
married.  The  State  Legislature  is  only  a  step,  too — 
there's  Congress,  you  know.  I'll  only  have  to  say  the 
word  to  get  the  nomination,  when  the  time  cornes. 
Little  girl,  with  your  brains  and  good  looks,  you'll 
queen  it  over  all  Washington  before  you  die." 

"  I  am  certainly  pleased  with  your  success,"  Nana 
answered.  '  *  God  has  been  very  good  to  us.  I  some- 
times wonder  why,  for  there  are  those  who  have  been 
more  generous  and  noble,  and  have  gained  no  praise. 
Their  lives  were  not  full  of  brilliant  colors  that  chal- 
lenge the  eye,  but  partook  of  those  rich  low  tones 
which  the  careless  observer  never  discerns.  They 
must  be  studied  to  be  appreciated,  and  few  there  are 
who  will  take  the  pains  to  do  it. ' ' 

Their  conversation  had  been  broken  by  intervals  of 
silence,  and  by  this  time,  they  had  reached  the  lonely 
mound,  about  which  the  buffalo  grass  was  just  begin- 
ning to  peep,  blade  by  blade.  They  paused  at  the 
head,  where  stood  a  small  marble  slab  on  which 
Lucky  read  for  the  first  time  the  inscription  which 
Nana  had  ordered  to  be  chiseled  there: 

LUND 

Aged  20. 

He  Was  a  Hero. 

Lucky  looked  at  Nana. 
"  You  mean  him,"  he  said  at  length. 
She  nodded.   Lucky  moved  a  step  nearer  the  grave 
and  took  off  his  hat. 


ALL   THINGS   COME   TO    HIM    WHO   WAITS.       167 

Just  then,  across  the  hill,  came  a  sound  of  merry 
voices,  and  the  rumble  of  wagon  wheels. 

From  grave  to  gay,  from  tears  to  laughter,  from  the 
bed  of  death  to  life  at  its  full,  this  is  the  rule  of  mortal 
existence.  We  can  not  sorrow  forever.  Lucky  and 
Nana  turned  to  greet  with  congratulations  the  happy 
couple  who  came  down  the  old  freight  road. 

It  was  Bub  and  Rose  returning  from  the  minister's. 


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